


A Future King doesn't Fall for Boys

by CLP



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Adorable Friendships, Anal Fingering, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Attempt at “Funny” Humor, Banter, Blowjobs, Enemies(?) to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Pining, Praise Kink, Royalty AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:05:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLP/pseuds/CLP
Summary: Connor McKinley may be the fourth child of the McKinley family lineage, but he's the only boy of five sisters so he has a clear path to taking the throne once his father dies. However, that reality may not happen for a long while so he's stuck waiting until his father kicks the bucket.Of course, the most important thing (that should be on Connor's to-do list) going on is the feud between the two kingdoms: Mormoni and Ufalme. They're on the brink of war with the tyrant king of Ufalme, who is full of more anger than the rumors speak him to be. The only way, anyone in his father's court figures, can stop this is if Connor marries the king's niece, Nabulungi. Oh, the joy this brings him!Even when trying to ignore them, he can't seem to escape from the court's idea of marrying a girl. Connor sees the many flaws in that plan, for his attention in women, from zero to ten, is a negative twelve. His interest in men though, specifically for his duke and old friend, Kevin Price, is way off that scale. They bicker, yet he almost spoils Connor and there's no denying that Connor finds it genuinely sweet.Will Connor choose to help his country or embrace true love at its core?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank @speremint on tumblr for the inspiration for this from her BoM Fairytale AU. The other pieces of artwork there are so pretty and are worth seeing so please check it out! 
> 
> By the way, if you have questions about the names of the kingdoms, all I did was type use an English word and translated it into Swahili. So Mormoni is Mormon (go figure) and Ufalme is Kingdom. I didn't wanna go crazy. Not yet, at least.
> 
> Enjoy!

He’s not a morning person, it’s almost funny. He loves the morning, but can’t be bothered to get up to see it. One night, he pushed his bed across the room and out the balcony doors, so the sun would become his alarm clock. The servants weren’t pleased with the renovation.

When the duke’s son seemed ready to prepare the young prince for the throne, he became Connor’s personal servant and scheduler. They were relieved that someone would watch him almost 24/7. What they weren’t prepared for was the few times that Duke Price came rushing into the kitchen at 4 in the morning, asking frantically for a glass of warm milk.

He’s never told them about the nightmares, he’s too afraid to. Connor blames the nightmares for his late-morning sleeping habit. They’ve been around since he met that stable boy. Even though the stable boy is gone, Connor still has them. And they drive Duke Price bonkers.

However, this morning is a nice morning. One of the lucky nights where he doesn’t have to ring in the duke for help. He’s lucky, and desires more sleep.

Yet once the wind from outside rustles against the duvet, Connor knows who’s in his bedroom. He doesn’t even need to look, because this routine of the cold morning wind and bright, sunlight rays bursting through his window has occurred for years now. The soft grumbles from the duke are enough to make his ears perk up for what comes next. Connor giggles and stuffs his head back into the pillow, protecting his face from the upcoming attack of a couch pillow.

“If you think we’re going to play games like this, then you’re very mistaken.” There’s a slight growl in his voice, which makes Connor laugh silently. He shifts his head so that he can see his manservant. Well, manservant is not really what the man is, his handsome features and sharp clothing can prove his status easily, but, only to Connor, he’s a manservant until 9 am.

“The great Kevin Price playing games with royalty? I’ve never heard of such of thing.” At his joke, another pillow is thrown and the duvet is tossed off the side of the bed.

“Don’t joke around, sire, this isn’t the time.” Kevin is gone after Connor moves the pillow from his face. Looking around the room, he spots the tall, dark-haired, man in his closet. He smiles, almost giggly with rehearsed banter.

Connor sits up, leaning on the backs of his hands as his elbows dig into his thighs. “Oh, I find it to be the perfect time. It’s quite funny to see your face flushed in defeat.”

“Your father doesn’t think the same.” His face drops, no longer wanting to face the day. The sliding of hangers is loud in his ears, then it stops.

Once Connor’s eyes regain their bright glow, he swallows thickly. The rest of his strength goes into speaking. “When did he get here?”

“Last night, maybe an hour after you went to bed. I told him you’d greet him early today. It's best we hurry before he gets any ideas.” He pays no attention to Connor as he scours the fine articles clothing. Kevin’s certainly a smart man, but he isn’t the brightest person in the land. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

“You know why he’s here, right?” He hesitates because these words don’t need to be said. The reasons are already known between the two of them.

“I have an idea.” Kevin exits his closet, folded white and baby blue clothes cradled between his arms and chest. “Are you implying he’s here to talk about your relationship status?”

“Kevin, if he mentions anything about marriage -” Connor stops his complaining for a moment to rethink, “scratch that - anything relating to marriage, promise me you’ll hold me back.”

“I’ll do my best.” He nods, it’s very brief that Connor doesn’t see it. He pulls back the blanket and hops out of the bed.

“Also if you pick me up,” He smiles innocently, his hands interlocking behind his back. “I will make a mess of your hair.”

“Yes, sire.” Kevin sighs in annoyance, closing his eyes.

Connor swipes his clothes from his arms with a giggily smile and quickly rush across the cold, marble floor. He doesn’t know whose bright idea it was to make the floor marble, but he’s glad that there are about five carpets in that room. Once behind his changing screen, he lets his feet dig into the silver, plush rug.

Kevin, now crossing his arms (Connor can tell because his gloves make a thick rustling sound when clashed against each other,) leans against the wall next to the screen. “Besides seeing your father-”

Connor peeks behind the screen, his wavy, white shirt hanging loosely at his wrists,  pointing a finger at him. “Make sure it’s no longer than fifteen minutes.” His face goes blank, thinking, then lights up again and wags his finger. “Fourteen minutes.”

“Yes, fourteen. Anyway,” He nods, then looks down at his dark boots. The rays of sunlight directly hit the two blood red jewels that lay pressed into the boots. As Connor fixes his collar, he notices the red tinge they make across the wall. “you have your studies with Sir Cunningham and-”

“And I’m visiting the children in town.” The sky blue, silver-lined vest goes on next as he interrupts.

“That’s not what’s pla-”

“Yes, yes,” He doesn’t see it, but Connor can hear the eye roll from Kevin. Connor tugs up the stiff, ivory pants, not intending to mock him. But the fact that he’s heard the phrase so many times, it comes naturally. “‘That’s not what’s planned for today,’ it may not be what you have planned but I have promises to keep.”

Kevin’s thick boots press hard against the floor as he peers behind the screen to see Connor’s freckled face. “You are not going into town without-.”

“I’m leaving after my lessons with Arnold, so stop your worrying.” He fixes the pants to be much more comfortable,  yanking them around until he’s satisfied. He smooths out his chest, his chin against his collar. Suddenly, he feels thick gloves move under his chin and lift it up. Kevin’s hands play around with the collar, fixing it to his satisfaction.

“I meant that I’m going to come with you.”

“I know that,” he’s no longer paying attention to his duke, trying to stabilize his bed head. “you’re my royal babysitter.”

“Connor,” Kevin growls at that, but Connor only takes glances at him. They’re so close, close enough for Connor to see Kevin’s pale pink lips. He tries to ignore the growing heat on his cheeks.

“That’s what Chris calls you.” He pushes away, moving past Kevin towards his vanity. Reaching for his thick, white gloves with a deep blue ring running around the end, he tucks the silk, wavy shirt into them. “Some of the knights are doing it now.”

Silence fills the room whilst Connor attaches small, silver chains to his vest. He doesn’t like it when the duke is quiet, the room begins to feel awkward. It’s as if nothing is alive inside the room without him. Quiet and Kevin Price, do not mix. “Kevin?”

He puffs up his cheeks, the sound is muffled but he clicks his tongue and turns from his spot. “Just finish getting ready.”

He’s upset. And he’s trying to hide it again. Connor’s quick steps echo around the room as he tries to stop him from leaving. “Kevin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you, I promise I didn’t tell them.”

Finally, he’s able to get in front of Kevin at the door. Blocking the only way out, he stares into those distressed, puppy-like eyes. “It’s fine, Connor. I don’t even care they call me that.”

He has too much pride not to care. Leaning up against him, Connor takes his head into his hands. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not, seriously.” Kevin’s hands quickly remove his, there’s a soft, red hue dusting his cheeks. He rotates Connor to get around him, now having easy access to the door. The knob turns and he’s free to go. “Just drop it, Connor. I’ll see you later.”

Connor grabs his arm, spinning him back around so now they’re face to face. Even though the move is fast and rough, there’s a gentle look on Connor’s face. “Kevin, one more thing.”

“Yes, sire?”

“Bring your violin before we go, the children would love it.” There's another meaning in Connor’s mind, but thankfully, Kevin doesn’t pick up on it.

Kevin takes his hand, bring it to his lips and kisses it gently. “As you wish,” is all he says as he lets go. And the door shuts, with Connor clutching his gloved hand in bliss.

He crouches onto the floor, leaning against the door. He brings the glove to his lips and leaves a similar, gentle kiss. Connor sighs, bumping his head against the cold door. He curses himself internally, positive that his little crush will be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this seemed really bad, I promise it gets way more interesting!
> 
> Next up, Arnold is a very encouraging tutor whilst Chris Thomas is the only logical person in this story. Also, little bit of war talk.
> 
> I made Chris a sorcerer, and yes, he created Poptarts. I have no regrets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During his lesson in the palace library, Connor remembers the times he's turned it off. His best friend also interferes with his lesson, not on purpose, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter actually, this turned out a lot better than I initially thought. I wanted to get another chapter before I have to go back to school so two chapters will keep people entertained.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thankfully, in those fourteen minutes, there were no maddened princes or destroyed hairlines. They exchanged hellos, his father only asked about his studies and Kevin (no longer upset over the teasing, thank Heavenly Father) got him out fast. As much as Connor hated his father, he certainly picked up some techniques from him.

At age six, Connor began mimicking his father’s method of being strong. When his mother passed away, he turned off those feelings of grief and sorrow just like his father. He sat through a long funeral pretending things were fine. He did, however, comfort his sisters when they began crying. His sisters were allowed to grieve, Connor wasn’t.

When Connor turned twelve, he started to notice the world a little differently. He noticed how poorly his father treated his subjects, and how distant he and his sisters had become with his father. He began to see the bigger picture of being a ruler, that it’s not all fun and games. And his attention was brought to the strong, male servants that worked day and night.

Connor began to feel something new inside him, a childhood friend caused him to realize this. The stable boy, Steve Blade, was someone Connor could never forget. He was charismatic and admirable, and though he was young, everyone trusted his word. Each day, Steve would always playfully tease him. And each day, Connor would see him and feel something warm inside him. The feeling was fuzzy and warm, yet good.

That’s when the dreams began. Dreams of him and Steve, alone together. The first few didn’t worry him, just soft smiles and giggles. But then, the dreams grew to thoughts. Thoughts of holding hands. Of passionate kisses and soft touches. Of amorous feelings and rough movements. Of naked bodies and quiet whispers. It wasn’t until his third wet dream that Connor realized how lovesick he was for Steve. So, he tried turning these feelings off.

He never enjoyed turning it off, nowadays the only times he did were during parties or with his father. He had to, dancing with girls or being close to them (other than his sisters because they're family) was sickening if he didn’t.

When he turned off the thoughts for Steve, it felt awful. He visited the stables less frequently, he focused on his studies more, he ignored Steve. When he believed he was cured and these thoughts were gone, Connor went to the stables. Arriving there, he realized that Steve was gone, and his feelings hadn’t.

Nightmares plagued him for weeks, full of demons, skeletons and, of course, Steve. Reminding him of how awful a person he is, making him guilty for having these thoughts and for ignoring Steve. After begging to Heavenly Father to let him wake up, he’d cry to Chris early in the morning. He hated those nights.

Connor, even now, keeps these nightmares, dreams, and thoughts to himself. The only person he’s told about these was Christopher Thomas. He trusts the court sorcerer with his secrets because he too has these thoughts. Unlike Connor, Chris is more open about who he is. He's never had nightmares about his sexuality like Connor, but he does have nightmares. He doesn’t talk about them since it’s mostly tears and panting, but Connor knows they’re bad.

After a while, the nightmares died down. That doesn’t mean they stopped, but they were less tearful. Turning off his thoughts became easier, that is, until Kevin arrived at the palace.

Kevin was the first person he couldn’t turn off his gay thoughts for. When they met at 15 years old, Connor couldn’t help it. With pretty eyes and strong features, there was no denying about how he should feel about Kevin. Actually, there was.

He prayed every night that these thoughts go away. He wished, begged, cried and yelled at Heavenly Father to make these strange yet desirable thoughts go away. He was afraid, fearful of how his family, friends, servants, and subjects would treat him if they found out his queer secret.

Then, one night, something came to him. Connor doesn’t know what, but, one early morning, he didn’t hate himself. His loathing stopping, and he gave up. He sensed something new and calm inside him. Something spiritual, as if his mother came back from the grave to help him out. Whatever it was, he embraced it and let it guide him to happiness.

That happiness helped him let go, to be himself. Sure, he still had nightmares, but they weren’t about his preference over boys and girls, they were more about the people he cared about: his subjects, his friends, his sisters, Kevin. He realized that all the people that stood beside him were more important than his sexuality.

Now, because of the upcoming war, he had to become a strong person. Not from closing himself off, but by letting others in. Connor learned from his visits with the village children that he was a safety blanket. People put their trust in him because he’s the prince (and the future king) and they expected him to lead them in the right direction. Yes, they put their trust in his father but he saw that trust begin the fall onto Connor. He even noticed Kevin has trust in him.

He also noticed that Kevin has become less strict than when they met. Don’t get him wrong, in the growing years, the duke is firm and assertive, but that doesn’t mean he's always like that. His soft side doesn’t always show, but when it does, Connor loves it. Kevin is passionate about his work, but also passionate about his relationships and hobbies. He puts so much effort into everything, and sometimes the effort digs him into a hole. And when he does, Connor is right by his side to get him out.

Kevin, who was always finely defined, always seems to appear more attractive each time Connor sees him. His long, white coat with red silk inner-lining and gold fringe always suited with his dark, neatly combed hair. His cocky yet charming smile fit his face shape perfectly. And his eyes - oh Heavenly Father probably worked extra hard on those. Though he was taller than Connor, it fit his demeanor and-

Sharp, loud snaps woke him from his thoughts. Connor blinks at the short, round person who stands in front of him. The only thing dividing them is the sturdy, wooden table.

“Connor, this is the quadrillionth time you’ve spaced out!” Arnold taps his forehead, making Connor wince at the small attempt to wake him up. He rubs the spot once Arnold stops and moves towards the shelves for another book.

“I promise I was thinking about ancient men from ancient history.” He smiles, trying to be convincing. If he was really doing that, it would be more about their appearance and less of their actions.

“Come on, buddy, you can’t lie to me. I know you were thinking about Kevin~” Ever since Arnold caught Connor heading to Chris’s room, tears and all, one night, he’s known about Connor’s attraction towards men. To Connor’s delight, he didn’t find it at all repulsive and instead encouraged Connor to welcome these feelings. After his enlightenment, Connor took upon his words.

He sighed, flipping the page of his book and then glancing back up at Arnold. “Anything yet? Has he even mentioned me or any other guys in your conversations?”

“Nope, sorry, pal. The only other guy he talks about is General Church and they’ve been friends for a long time.” Arnold has the tendency to spill about everyone and everything. So far, he’s kept Connor’s sexuality a secret, and, of course, Connor trusts him enough. However, for Connor’s sake, Arnold has told him a few things that pop up in the conversations with his best friend.

Being back to square one, Connor returns to his book with an exaggerated sigh. “Right.”

“Aw, cheer up, Connor.” Arnold slaps him on the back, a bit too hard, causing him to fall forward and almost slamming into the book. He glances up to a smiling Arnold. Although some may say Arnold is a little weird and awkward, he has a warm, kind aura to him. “Kev’s not one of those people who enjoy talking about their personal junk. He’s sure to come around.”

“I hope you’re right because I don’t think I can last any longer.” Connor returns his smile, and before the two of them can laugh, an explosion comes from the hall. Then, the library door flung open and in walked in a bleach-blond haired boy wearing a royal yellow cloak. His hair is tousled in every direction and his soft brown eyes are blown alive. The cloak trails behind him, since he's too short, but his fast walking and long legs help people ignore it.

“Don’t panic, I don’t really have anything under control though, but nobody died,” Chris tells them, but is too stressed and preoccupied to truly assure them.

“What blew up this time?” Connor asks Chris, who is not truly paying attention to him. “A transformation potion? Or was it a shrinking one?”

“No, milk.” He looks at Arnold in annoyed confusion as if they’ve never done magic before. They hadn’t.

“Who blows up milk?” He asks, Connor, now glancing between the two of them, stands up to try and calm his best friend down. Chris rapidly flips through one of the books and bobs back and forth on long legs.

“When trying to make a very precise pastry, I do.” More annoyed sighs. Chris is much like Kevin, yet when he sticks his mind to something, it gets a little crazy. Since he’s a sorcerer, he has the tendency to blow things up, either he intends to or not at all.

“You really need to relax.” He rubs his friend’s back, trying to get a look at his book. Although it’s in a language he can’t read, he likes the pictures. "This pastry of yours has gotten you to reach the extremes."

"Don't patronize me, Mr. I-Think-a-Feather-Boa-is-a-Sexy-Way-to-Win-Over-Men." He scoffs, slamming his book close. He moves quickly across the room to grab another book off the shelves.

"At least I look good in it." His soft blue feather boa with long, deep blue cape is laying over the chair he was sitting in. The cape was sewn into the boa at his request so he could use it as a blanket for long trips. As Chris walks by, he steps on the flowing cape without a care.

"Sure you do, how's that winning over Duke Price?" He retorts, looking over a book cover. Connor finds himself flushing and shrinking back with crossed arms.

“I'm getting there, eventually." He pauses before adding to that sentence. When he regains his confidence, he shuffles around in his spot. "I won't lie, your way of using magic to barge into places where hot guys are is working very well."

“Thank you, and I won't lie, you are getting sassier. I must be rubbing off on you." Chris turns and soon the two of them are face to face. Well, not necessarily. Chris is only a little shorter than Connor, but once they meet eye to eye they both enter a giggly fit.

Arnold, now confused of their conversation, finally decides to butt in. "Wait, didn't you guys just hate each other a few seconds ago?"

"It's kinda our friendship.” Connor explains, a soft smile on his face, “we both hate on each other but then we bring each other back up again."

"You could call it a ying-yang thing if you wanted to." Chris nods at that answer, seeming satisfied with it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have Pop Tarts to make.”

“Is that what you call them?” Connor tilts his head in uncertainty, mostly because he isn’t sure he likes that name.

“Yes, and I ran out of them a few hours ago.”

His brow scrunches at the small window of time, “A few hours? But you had a stock of 500 since yesterday.”

“I told you, they’re awesome!”

Arnold speaks up with a question Connor believes, in that moment, you shouldn’t ask Chris, ever. “Why do you call them Pop Tarts?”

“Because each flavor pops in your mouth!” He bursts out with such large exaggeration, but then quickly returns to reality. “Also because they often explode while you’re making them. I haven’t perfected the recipe but I’m getting to it.”

“Can I be your taste tester! I could help you with new ideas for flavors!” Arnold bounces with similar energy now, and Connor feels a bit forgotten.

“Sure, I’m trying to make a new batch now. Come on!” Chris runs right out of the room, and Arnold follows right behind him.

Then, Arnold remembers he exists. He peaks back into the room, the large smile on his face still. “Right, you’re dismissed, Connor.”

“It’s fine, I was going to show myself out anyway. I’m going to visit some of the children in town.” Connor states, leaning against one of the tables.

“Okay, have fun!” Arnold is too distracted by food to really listen anymore, and Connor laughs as the two boys run down the hall towards the Left Wing.

He shuts the book and places it back on the shelf. He’s read almost all of these books, has most of the titles memorized. There are sections about the law, economy, history, myths, fairy tales, math and so much more that Connor can’t name them all. He isn’t much of a book nerd like Arnold, but he certainly has read a numerous amount.

He stares at the thick, rough brown spine of another book with gold lining. Tracing the lining and soon enough pulling the whole book out from its spot, he remembers sometimes sleeping in this room in the corner of the small palace. It’s only if he doesn’t want to wake Chris in the dead hours of the morning and desires to think of something else than his nightmare. Lighting a candle, Connor will creep down the corridor and enter the library.

His feet will dig into the blood red carpet with bright, yellow daffodils that cover the entire flooring. The ceiling goes high, with large windows that let the moonlight shine through. He doesn’t close the long, draping curtains; Connor likes the company of the moon.

The books he likes are always on the first section, third shelf of all the shelves in the room. They mostly consist of scripts from old playwrights and old romantic stories. Connor will take a seat at one of the many tables residing in the room, and read till he drops dead into sleep. Sometimes, in the morning, he’d find himself in his bedroom without even knowing how he got there.

A knock comes from the door, breaking him from his thoughts. He jumps, eyes flashing at the door. Kevin, with a growing pout on his face, is leaning against the doorframe. There’s a thick, black case in his own covered hand.

“Is there a change in plans?” He raises an eyebrow, and Connor shakes his head.

“Just thinking, is all.” He places the book away on his shelf and collects himself, grabbing his boa-cape off the chair. “Let’s go, before Lucy begins to think I’ve been executed by my father.”

Kevin nods, waiting until Connor leaves the room to start moving. The two walk in silence, but not the same awkward silence from the morning. It’s more reassuring, buzzing with rosiness even. The feeling brings hope to Connor, maybe surmise that Kevin feels that same.

He looks at Kevin the same time Kevin looks at him. Their mouths are both agape, ready to say something but nothing exits. They try again, yet nothing. Then, their childish giggles fill the hallway, the uncomfortable vibes gone. With smiling faces, heavy breathing, and gentle shoves, the two of them head down to the carriages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that Chris is my favorite character in this? No, well I'll tell you again. Chris is my favorite character in all of this dramatic mess. He'll get his own chapter later on, just like everyone else, except for Arnold and Nabulungi (sorry all you Arnabu fans. I promise they're still a really cute couple.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke Kevin Price is not someone who enjoys the company of most, but he sure doesn't mind the company of his annoying childhood friend. Before heading off with Prince McKinley, a few antics occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! A Kevin Chapter!
> 
> I don't really know what to say for this one because I was kinda fiddling around with it. Since Kevin is more prestigious, he uses titles and last names. There are only a few times where a first name is stated, most at emotion based segments.
> 
> I also have an idea of where I'm going with the story. I knew what I wanted to do, but didn't have much of an order of events. I'm not sure if I should call this a filler chapter, but it's a fun/cute one so no worries.
> 
> Enjoy!

By the time they reach the carriages, the large smiles from the hall are still on their faces. Duke Price runs a hand through his hair, quickly places his violin case inside one of the carriages, and glances at one of the stablemen.

“Get Venture and Darling hooked up,” He lowers his voice to the stableman, “and make it fast. We don’t need His Royal Highness to know we’re gone.”

The stableman nods, the rushes towards the others notify them of the quiet orders. When he turns back to McKinley, he finds that the redheaded prince has disappeared on him. Before he does start panicking, however, he spots McKinley outside Darling’s stable and petting the brown-spotted horse.

As Darling nuzzles his hand to say hello, and then jerks his head up to almost bumping McKinley’s, Duke Price flushes a bit. The way he moves is so gentle and slow, but McKinley makes everything elegant in his own way. He follows his hands as they pet the horse’s muzzle, watching as soft, smooth hands glide down from the top of Darling’s face to his snout.

“You must really love that horse if you have that dopey smile on your face.” He quickly spins around to find a man in heavy, silver plates of armor coming up behind him. He had a strong stature and was only “slightly taller” than Price. His head of luscious black locks are slick back and greasy with sweat, yet he still had a cool and relaxed aura about him. This is the notorious General Church, and the only person Kevin will spill his secrets to.

“Shut up, you know who I was looking at.” Price rolls his eyes, straightening his posture.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed,” Church chuckles, then shrugs with a smirk on his face. “But, then again, you haven’t noticed either.”

“What? What haven’t I noticed?” He exclaims, shooting his gaze right at Church.

The general places a hand over his gaping mouth, Price can see he’s trying to hide his laughter. “Oh Heavenly Father, you really haven’t.”

“General James Louis Church, what the h-e-double longswords am I missing?” He fumes, growing embarrassment appearing on him.

Church’s laughter dies down, with a few moments where it bursts out again and is left with a stupid smile. “Last week, I think it was Tuesday, while you and I were sparing on the field, he had a clear view from the Left Wing window.”

“He was in the sorcerer’s tower?” His eyes widen, Church can’t tell if they’re in shock or excitement. “How was I supposed to see him?”

“He’s got red hair, Price, he isn’t that hard to spot.” With the clanking of his armor, Church crosses his arms.

“Have I really been that oblivious to the signs?” He speaks quietly, going through his memories of Connor McKinley. He scours all of them, trying to find a longing glance or a flustered, freckled face.

“Oblivious to what signs?” He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice McKinley walk up to them, that is until his sweet, chipper voice pops in his ears.

“Duke Price has been having trouble keeping up with me lately in our weekly spares.”  Price’s brain can’t come up with any lies, so Church, thankfully, speaks for him. “I told him about the times he had a clear shot of attacking me but never took them.”

He silently thanks Church for covering for him, although he is a little annoyed the lie is directed at his fighting style. “I just never really noticed them, okay.”

“You’ve got to be an amateur to not notice easy hit points.” The general rocks back and forth on the pads of his feet.

“You shouldn’t hurt his pride like that. If you do, he’ll plot your murder.” McKinley wags a finger at him.

“Oh please, Duke Price could never hurt a fly.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, he’s been making sure my death goes as planned.” The prince is obviously joking at this point, but Price can’t help but take his words seriously. Did he really think Price would try and kill him? The thought of him actually doing it made him feel ill.

“Kevin? Are you feeling alright, you look a little pale.” McKinley waves a hand in front of his face. His hands move to cup Price’s face, feeling his blood-drained face. “Gosh, your face is freezing! Maybe we shouldn’t go out.”

Connor’s small hands are soft, with long, slender fingers. His face had become closer now, searching for something in Kevin’s eyes. He’s worrying about him, and it’s quite cute by Kevin’s standards. His mind travels to warm-hearted thoughts, full of tender kisses, tight hugs, and warm cuddles. Soft nuzzles and Connor’s giggles fill his brain. Luckily, Church pinches his side, waking him up from his soft daydream before he starts fainting into Connor’s arms.

“No, I’m fine.” He rubs the back of his neck, giving a small thumbs up to Church. ”Just my stomach is all. I didn’t really have a full breakfast this morning.”

“For Heavenly Father’s sake, Kevin, please eat in the morning.” His nose scrunches. Price knows that look, that’s when McKinley spots through his lies, but he says nothing.

“Don’t scold me, that’s my job.”

“Well, it’s my job to make sure you’re safe and well.” The way McKinley answers him makes Price blush, knowing that this stupidly cute prince does care about him.

He quickly collects himself, poker face back on. “Is it really, though?”

“Yes, it is. Now head to the kitchen for something to eat, or I’ll leave without you.”

“I’ll make sure he gets there, Your Highness.” Church butts in, nodding his head.

McKinley smiles graciously at him, which makes Price bubble with little jealousy. “Thank you, James.”

Church, startled by the use of his first name, does a double take at McKinley. “You don’t have to call me that. By my first name, I mean.”

“I can do what I want, can’t I?” He nods, “Then I can call you anything I want, and I want to call you by your first name.”

“You shouldn’t really do that, we aren’t on the same level of status.” He’s right, and Price agrees with him.

“Status is just a way for the rich people to seem better than the normal people. It really doesn’t mean anything.” McKinley’s posture, although he’s short than the two of them, is tall and a little menacing. Price identifies it as his “I Believe in what is Right” posture, and it makes him slightly melt.

“Well, not to you, but certainly to us poorer people. You’re royalty, you have every right to do what you what.” The rebuttal from Church makes McKinley scoff is disbelief and aggravation.

“And you’re a person with rights too, you just don’t use all of them to your advantage. Now go eat!” And with that, he has the last word. McKinley stomps off, either in anger or disgust of the thoughts some of his subjects have.

“I can see why you like him.” Church finally says when they enter the palace through the servants quarters. “I might just steal him for myself.”

“Don’t you dare!” Price laughs, but it doesn’t last long. “I thought you were dating that little milkmaid?”

“She ran off with someone else, I don’t really mind. She was a bit boring and didn’t really want to actually be a normal couple. We kissed, and it was nice, but nothing crazy.” He describes in vivid detail, but it’s not like Price cares.

“At least you got to have fun having someone by your side, while I’m stuck with quiet smiles and distant looks from afar.” Price rolls his eyes, and Church returns it with a gentle shove.

“You’re an idiot,” He’s laughing at him now and Price returns his comical joking with a shove back in retaliation. “No, really you are. I bet if you just walked up and kissed him, he’d realize you like him.”

“I could never do that, I’d get my head chopped off!” Church is still chuckling, which makes Price shake his head. “How did I even end up with a friend like you?”

“Face it, you’re stuck with me. I bet he wouldn’t even mind, honestly you-”

The sounds of two people shouting are finally recognized by the two of them. The yelling seems to be coming from the wall beside them since the kitchen door is around the corner. One sounds like the cook and the other is entirely new to the both of them, however, Price feels like he’s heard it before.

“It’s almost done, Lulu, hold your freaking horses!” The first voice calls out.

There’s a large groan that comes from the kitchen and can be heard down the hallway. “I told you, magic is not allowed in-”

There is a loud  _boom_ in the next few seconds that comes from the kitchen. There are a few screams but they didn't sense any fire. But as flowing waves of smoke enter the hall, a loud shriek of excitement rang in their ears.

_"I'm a genius!"_

"Christopher Thomas, you get back here and clean up this mess!" Light giggles become more prominent in the hall. Price shakes his head and scowls; of course, it's Sir Thomas that made the explosion.

He appears around the corner with a small basket full of small pastries he had never seen before. "I'll be back at three, I prom- oh, Duke Price! Oh, this is perfect, I need you to do something for me!"

His excitement only grows at the sight of Price and he quickly fishes into his basket. Price notices Church's eyes go a bit wide and tries to remain calm. "Can I help you, Sir Thomas?"

"Here" He pulls out one of the pastries with blue frosting and colorful sprinkles, then breaks it in half. "Take this half to Connor, I know you two are leaving in a bit. Take it as a snack for the road."

"What is it?" He asks, slowly and he takes it. Church peers at it, but his eyes quickly are drawn back to the bouncing sorcerer.

"A Pop-Tart! He'll know who it's from." Thomas's bouncing has slightly gone down, but he's still very energetic. He wonders if Church has become dizzy yet from staring at him. "If he doesn't want it then be my guest!" 

"You didn't put any magic in it, did you?" Price raises an eyebrow, testing him.

Thomas shrugs, beginning to sound slightly annoyed. "I have no clue, I might have, so stop by the Left Wing if something happens."

Then, the clock tower bongs out the time, and Church, who was slightly distracted by something during their conversation, jumps at the sound.

"Gotta go, I promised Arnold he could be my taste tester for this batch!" Thomas quickly glances towards the window and moves past them, skipping down the hall. In hand is the half-broken Pop Tart, in which he takes a bite out of. "Not this one, of course, but the rest of these."

"Be careful, and don't give him more than five!" Price calls out before Thomas turns the corner. "I have no idea what his highness sees in him."

Church, still staring at the corner, looks almost dumbfounded. Price waves a hand over his face, bringing Church back to him. "Sorry, you were saying."

"James, what was that? I don't think I've ever seen you space out like that." 

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you later, okay." Before Price can start asking him questions, Church is already gone and following the same path as Thomas. He shakes his head but wasn't too bothered that his friend had left before answering him. He glances down at the Pop-Tart and remembers Connor's wish of him eating something.

"It couldn't hurt, it's just a pastry." He takes a bite from one of the corners, small pieces of dough crumbles onto the carpet. The Pop Tart is sweet and cherry-filled flavors burst in his mouth. He realizes he's never tasted anything so sweet and savory in his entire life but isn't that impressed. It's a magical tart, what else can he expect. He quickly finishes, wipes anything from his mouth and turns back towards the stables. Price feels something buzzing inside him but can't quite place what it is.

When he opens the stable door, he spots McKinley enter the carriage the horses are hooked up to. Darling huffs against the reins while Venture is stomping his hoof against the hay-ridden ground, eager to get moving. Price strides over as fast as he can without startling Venture, and pets the black horse's muzzle to calm him down. The driver, who is also ready to go, glances down at him and gestures to get inside. Price nods and enters the carriage.

"Please tell me you got something to eat." Connor's hands are cupped in his hand on his lap, a parental look on his face. The violin case sits between them.

Price nods like a child, holding in his laughter. "Yes, Thomas was blowing up the kitchen to make these pastries called Pop Tarts. He wanted you to eat it, but it was already in front of me so."

"Well, you did eat something, I'll give you that." The carriage begins moving, gently rocking back and forth. "But, word of advice, next time Chris offers you food, don't eat it."

"Why, it seemed harmless." Kevin tilts his head.

"Kevin, he's a sorcerer! Haven't you learned that you shouldn't take food from people with magic. As much as I love Chris, he's not so great when it comes to food." His concern is plastered all over his face, as well as Connor's hand is suddenly pressed against his forehead. "Now, do you feel strange?"

"I feel fine, Connor, you don't need to worry." Kevin, now moving his hand away, takes a minute to bask in the warmth of it. 

He huffs, his attention brought to the window. His arms now crossed, he relaxes. Finally, "I only worry because I care."

Kevin smiles wholeheartedly at that, the sounds of his heart pounding in his ears. He remembers what Church said, about kissing him right then and there. Soft, sweet lips pressed against his own. The feeling of true happiness and warmth revolving between the two of them. A little voice inside him is urging him on to do it, to tell the boy next to him, the most important person in his life, that he likes him. It edges on until the words are jumbling around his mouth.

"Connor, I have something to tell you." He finally gets out. It comes out serious, not at all how he expected it to.

"I'm all ears." Connor, now attention back to him, stares kindly at him with bright blue eyes.

"I," _Just say it, tell him. It isn't so hard to, just let the words roll off your tongue and it'll work itself out._ "don't like kids."

And, at that moment, Kevin feels more of an idiot than he's ever felt in his life. At least he didn't lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm? I wonder if that Poptart really has magic in it? Guess you'll have to wait and see.
> 
> Who's ready for some small children, spilled secrets, Kevin on violin and bad parenting!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM NOT DEAD (unfortunately)
> 
> This just took a while to write, I'm sorry. I kinda had trouble writing this chapter but slowly and surely I had some fun with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, time to get the big renovations and updates out of the way.
> 
> Yes there are 20 chapters for this. There will also be a 2nd era for this series but I can't really explain what that means since it's kinda a huge spoiler, so trust me.
> 
> Enjoy whatever.. this is...

Out all the things Kevin is, he is most certainly not a liar. He has a younger brother, yes, but Jack isn’t a noisy 5-year-old. Children have no sense of peace and quiet. They run wild and create chaos. They move too fast for him to keep up. They really are tiny, terrifying monsters.  
  
And now, he’s told Connor this. Not the thing he wanted to tell him, but it’s a good conversation starter, at least. As Connor stares at him with either shock or concern, he takes a deep breath and squirms in his seat.  
  
“You know how I feel about relationship-based commitment. It’s just always been there ever since my training as a duke.” Kevin says, softly, his eyes falling to his lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”  
  
“It’s okay, Kevin." He feels Connor's hand move under his chin to raise his head up. Their eyes meet, Connor's full of sympathy. "You told me a little bit about it before, but I didn't know about this.”   
  
"I guess I hide it pretty well." His hand rubs his ear, a smile appearing and disappearing as soon as it came.  
  
“But what do you mean by ‘training?’” Connor's question makes him laugh a little.  
  
He shifts awkwardly against the plush cushions. “My father had me work in a daycare for awhile so that I could get used to raising your kids. It was such an awful mess. They’re grubby little animals, and I’ve never liked them.”  
  
The image of wild children and their awful smell flood his brain. He remembers three little girls that would cling to his leg while he was trying to walk. Remembering the smell of dirty diapers makes him shudder. That day was not his proudest moment.  
  
A hand rubs his back, a stronger look of concern is plastered on Conner's face now. “Kevin, I promise you, I don’t plan on raising my kids like that. And I’m not going to be like my father and leave them with a duke.”  
  
“I hope not, it’d really- wait.” He pauses, almost confused “You’re still going to have kids?”  
  
“Well, yeah. Marriage isn’t something on my to-do list but kids are.” He shrugs and smiles that perfect, reassuring smile Heavenly Father gave him. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”  
  
“I trust you on that." Kevin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don’t know how I’m going to feel for these next hours with those crazy monsters.”  
  
“Kevin, they’re called children and they have names.” He giggles - _by Lord he giggles_ \- and places his hand over Kevin's. “And you'll love them just as they will love you. I didn't just make you bring your violin for the kids.”  
  
Kevin gives him a questionable look, only to hear Connor giggle again and want to look away but can't. He silently curses himself for being too soft for this boy.  
  
"I guess James was right, you are very oblivious to obvious things" Connor stares into his eyes, a warm glow radiating from him. "When you play, you look so calm. Like nothing could bother you anymore. Don't you feel calmer when you're playing it?"  
  
He's never realized that, does he feel calmer? His eyes glance at the case for a few seconds, then he picks it up and opens it. Inside is the wooden instrument sits, alongside its bow. The warm, classical sounds that sometimes harmonizes with his mood flows through his brain. He removes it from the case, cradling it against his knees.  
  
His thumb rubs against the side of the lower bout, eying up each part of it with careful intent. "Sometimes when I play, I forget the world around me. The sounds of music really take me away, and I can be at ease. Like the only things that important to me are the few things that exist and are safe. My friends, my family, you-"  
  
Kevin flushes and avoids meeting Connor's eyes, hiding any sort of affection. "I mean, since you're my friend and my prince, that's all."  
  
Connor, who's now hiding his own face, stares out the window. "It's good you have a safe space like that. Mine's a little different, of course."  
  
"Then, where's yours?" Kevin finally looks up, his blush gone only slightly.  
  
Connor bounces to life, almost scaring him. "Oh, it's perfect. I have all my favorite writings on the third shelf in the first section of the library. It's mostly full of old scripts and books that can help me take my mind off of a nightmare."

 _So that's why he's in there so early in the morning._ Kevin thinks to himself, recalling the times he's found Connor laying asleep on one of the many tables and had to carry him back to his room. Remembering how pretty he looked in the moonlight makes him almost blush, but he holds his own and tries to change the conversation.  
  
He coughs, mentioning back to the nightmares. "You still have them?"  
  
Connor shrugs, fiddling with his fingers. "It's not as bad as your first few days so I don't bring them up. These past few days I've been lucky but I doubt it'll last long."  
  
"I'm here if you need to talk about them." Kevin places his hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him without doing anything crazy.  
  
"No, I have Chris. He has them too, but he never wants to talk about them." His smile puts Kevin at ease. "He may seem rude, and he's more of a talker than a listener. But if you have something interesting to say, he listens."  
  
Kevin nods then lets out a breathy laugh, "I don't know why you're friends with him, he's an oddball."  
  
"He is, but that's why we're friends. All my friends are oddballs, even you, and I like them that way. It's always fun, you know." Connor smiles softly, and Kevin shifts uncomfortably again and silence again enters the carriage. No more words are spoken between them, as the two of them blush in secret.

* * *

The amount of children that yell, cheer and giggle outside the carriage is almost too much for him. His leg bounces nervously, his hand brushing Connor's in discomfort.  
  
Their eyes meet for a few seconds until a relaxing smile appears on Connor's face. Connor's thumb brushes against the black glove covering Kevin's hand.  
  
"You don't have to come out if you don't want to." A soft glimmer of sympathy resides in his eyes.  
  
"No, I figured that I'd have to come to terms with this fear of mine." Kevin's eyes flickering to the window more than once. "Just keep them distracted for most of the time."  
  
"Of course, but unless they ask me to tell my family history again, I'm coming to you." Connor stands, shifting his boa to correctly sit on his shoulders.  
  
Kevin's eyebrow lifts quizzingly, "Wait, seriously? You tell them that story?"  
  
"They love hearing it, I don't know why." A shrug is all that comes from Connor.  
  
He nodded awkwardly, waiting nervously as the coachman opens the door. Connor gives him a smile and then faces the children. Kevin has never been so afraid as the small children attack the carriage.  
  
"Connor-!"  
  
"-come play-  
  
"-I've got a new doll-"  
  
"-Lucy has cookies-"  
  
"-who's your friend-"  
  
"-can he play too-"  
  
"-come play!"  
  
"That's enough, children. Go on and play and His Highness will be with you in a moment." A brunette, bright young woman with splotches of white covering her skin walks up to the gathered crowd. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders and straightened, but still flows against the gentle wind. Her long, turquoise dress matches her eyes and she has a large, motherly glow to her. Connor's warm smile at her makes Kevin squirm a bit.  
  
"But Miss Lucy-"  
  
"-can't we play-"  
  
"-I want to show Connor-"  
  
"-the cookies-!"  
  
Lucy crosses her arms, "Yes, I know that but his friend doesn't look too comfortable at the moment."  
  
He realizes her words were directed at him and gives a nervous laugh. For a second, a concerned look is on Connor's face. "I'm fine, miss. I guess I might need a breather."  
  
"Go on, all of you." She shoos them, her eyes directing one of the taller boys, "Jason, can you make sure they don't play in that mud pit behind the shed."  
  
The rest of the children run off, the tall boy that looks nothing like his mother, with the exception of a few light spots, nods at her. "I'll do what I can, Mom."  
  
"I apologize for them, I should've expected them to be so rowdy." Lucy folded arms move freely to cup her hands.  
  
Connor assures her, "Lucy, it's fine. It's not me you should be worried about." His stance mirrors to when Kevin introduces him to lords and ladies; his knowledge of it makes Kevin smile softly until he hears Connor's words.  "Miss Lucy Aloge, meet the egotistical but still amiable Duke Kevin Price."

"That's not funny," His face falls, not necessarily angry or annoyed but still upset. "I am not egotistical."

He rocks back and forth on his heels, the boa's cape waving gently against both his movements and the wind. "Your excitement in Father's court would beg to differ."

"I will leave without you." He isn't too serious about that empty threat, but he'll do it.

His voice becomes babyish. "No, you won't. You care too much about my safety."

Their argument is quickly discarded when the sound of laughter comes from Lucy. When she catches her breath, she collects herself, leaving a smile. "Parden my laughter, but, correct me if I'm wrong, you two sound like a married couple."

"That's not-" Kevin stops when he sees Connor's freckled face go red. The only sound for awhile is the brushing of leaves against one another until Connor notices a small group run towards them.

"I might as well go see what the children are up to, we don't need them making a fuss."

"Be careful!" He calls after him.

"Kevin, they're just children. What kind of harm do you suppose they do?" He laughs, turning around to face them and waiting for Kevin to retort. There was a small bright hue of pink across his cheeks, along with no reply. Too embarrassed to reply, his head hangs low and waiting until he hears Connor's voice react to something other than him. When he looks up, a small girl is in his arms, and the two of them rub noses; a sight that Kevin was glad he saw. Lucy is quietly giggling next to him, a hand covering her thin lips.

"I've been in your situation." Her hand slowly moves away from her face. "And you certainly show the love you have for him."

"You're being silly. Connor is my prince, of course, I care for him." He poorly insists.

"Is it just that, only care and nothing else?" Her head tilts, quizzingly.

"I-" Kevin's words are faulty and his eyes dart to the redheaded prince running about with the group, a mixture of boys and a few girls.

"There are certainly other emotions a person can feel for the one they care about." Lucy infers, and begins naming those emotions, "trust, respect, kindness, affection, love-"

"If it were love then I would've left by now." He lies.

"Do you love him?" She asks, Kevin gives no response.

"Do you need him?" She asks again, rephrasing her words.

"Connor is everything to me. He's my friend." A soft hum comes from Lucy.

"Will you ever admit that you love him?"

"Never out loud," Kevin replies, not sure if his response is from his heart or his mind. "If I were someone else, I'd declare it to the entire kingdom of Mormoni."

Silence surrounds them, until, "To be honest, I thought his queer interest would have been found by another man."

Kevin's attention is brought away from Connor and the children. "I'm sorry?"

Her head turns, a questionable look appearing on her face. "Have I said something wrong?"

His fingers rub the violin handle, nervously. "You said 'his queer interest,' what exactly does that mean?"

"Has he not told you?" She almost looks shocked, but it quickly passes. "I won't spoil anything then, it's not my business to delve into."

"But you-"

The rustling sounds of grass is soft as she walks away. "I'm just doing what I can. Gossip doesn't really get out in these parts."

Kevin stares at her dumbfounded. What secret has Connor not told him? Usually, other than his nightmares, Connor tells him everything. From his worries of Tiffany when she became a knight to the time Annalise ran from their home, Connor told him all his problems. So what has he not revealed to him?

The latch of the case opens, Kevin moving almost automatically. He's realized that, in the past, his best thinking comes from playing his violin. He guesses Connor is right, he does feel clearer playing it.

He places the chinrest under his chin and close to his shoulder. While moving one hand to the fingerboard, Kevin takes the bow into the other.

Once he has everything prepared, he moves the bow against the strings, creating a soft yet offkey scale. He slowly twists the tuning pegs, returning back to his original position to check for perfection. He plays again and this time, the sound is just how he likes it.

As he begins a short yet memorable tune, his mind wanders to the topic beforehand: Connor. Was the secret so horrible that he couldn't have shared it with him? But he shared it with Lucy? What makes her more special than him? Does he like her?

An off-key note sends Kevin back to reality, the screeching sound echoing in his ear. No, he decides, no he doesn't. Lucy may be important to him but if Connor did want to get married, Lucy would be his choice. But Kevin's still unsatisfied.

Does Sir Thomas know? That would make sense since people have described Sir Thomas as queer himself. And queer meant strange and odd, but what did that word have to do with Connor.

Queer was used to relate to the oddballs, the weirdos, the freaks. But, Connor wasn't any of those. Queer meant unusual, bizarre, abnormal, gay-

This time, Kevin stops on his own at the revelation. Was that what she meant? The phrasing fit with it but is that the truth?

The sound of soft giggles comes from the ground, as Kevin notices the small children gathered around him. He almost jumps in fear until he notices they're now all sitting quietly and watching him.

His eyes glace back to his violin and begin's playing again, finding that the children are taking interest in him. He plays a jollier tune now, instead of the quieter one and the children giggle and cheer with enjoyment. A smile appears and Kevin's face as well as he grabs their attention.

When he finishes the piece, he notices Lucy, her son and Connor all standing behind the group of wide-eyed children. His smile is proud, almost praising Kevin for his baby steps and his eyes glow in something new that Kevin has never noticed before. All Kevin can do is smile un gentle kindness.

* * *

The carriage ride home felt faster than on the way there. Connor's stories of the small boys and girls basically caught him up on which child was which. Kevin learned that Gloria is a troublemaker, Evan isn't much of a talker unless he's beside Jason, Elle wants to become a true princess, Zach has a heavy sweet tooth, Michael and Riba are very inseparable, and too many more facts to count.

"Don't tell me that you're going to make each and every one of those kids your heir." He says, jokingly but Connor's face soon becomes serious.

"I don't know, to be honest, they feel more like my own children than if I were to have children myself."

Kevin nods along with the bouncing of the carriage. "Well, Lucy seems like she'd be up for the job." He suggests, "you could marry her and I bet she'd bring all those kids with her."

Connor laughs at the silly idea, "No, Lucy isn't interested in getting married. After Jason's father passed, she knew she wasn't going to get with anyone else."

"Well, is there anyone you like?" Kevin knows that pushing Connor to tell him is wrong, but he's a little worried the secret is what he suspects it to be. "Because Lucy did mention something interesting."

Connor stiffens, "What'd she say?"

"Something about a 'queer interest' in men." For a moment, he thinks Connor has stopped breathing. "Connor, if there's something you're not telling me then you don't _really_ have to tell me."

"There's nothing at all, I promise." He's quiet for a moment, his lips becoming a thin line, then nods his head. "No, I can't keep it from you anymore. I knew I was going to have to tell you eventually-"

"Connor, you don't-"

"But I do, Kevin, I do." He takes the gloved hands in his own, holding tightly onto them as if Kevin will let go. "Because I've always complained about getting married and never giving you the reason why. I can't withhold that reason from you forever so will you let me explain myself?"

Kevin shuts his mouth, listening to the sounds of slowing horses and Connor's breathing.

He starts slow, hesitating through the sentence. "The reason I'm so against marrying a girl is that I'm not interested in them. They don't come off as attractive me at all. Men however do. Do you understand? Is that easy to understand?"

He was right. He doesn't know if he should be happy or shocked. Kevin truly does understand since he's having the same realization. When he noticed he liked the male servants just as much as the women, he was a little nervous to tell Arnold. But Arnold is and was nonjudgmental about it so everything seemed fine afterward. James says he always knew but Kevin isn't so sure about that, but he's not going to argue with him

He gives a slow, but still kind nod to him that stops when the carriage does. "No, I understand. That makes sense a little bit more now."

Connor gives him a nervous look. "You don't hate me or anything. That I kept it from you and told Arnold instead?"

"Connor, it's perfectly fine. But really, you told Arnold first and not me? I feel disgusted." Kevin says, jokingly to make Connor more comfortable.

It works as a cheeky smile appears on Connor's face. "Sorry, he found out earlier than I expected."

"To be honest, I might feel like that too, where my interest is in men more." He might as well come out with his own secret if Connor is sharking his. The door of the carriage opens and he slowly stumbles out before Connor.

"You do?" He hops out, turning around to take Connor's hand and help him out.

"Maybe, but I-"

_"Connor!"_

A tall man, almost as tall as Kevin, comes towards them in long strides. His hair is not as red as Connor's, but his freckles are more prominent. His clothing is more royal and firm to anyone that meets his eyes. Connor curses under his breath and not loud enough for Kevin to hear.

He was a man nobody ever wanted to meet but had to meet anyway because they were probably forced to. His strong yet aggressive aura sometimes makes Kevin wonder how the two are related. Then again, Connor isn't always so sweet and charming.

"Where have you been all day? You were supposed to come see me about tomorrow's ball." His tone is aggravated and rude, but McKinley doesn't back down

"What ball?" he asks, returning the same nasty tone only a little less aggressive. When he turns to Price, there is no anger in his voice. "Did you hear about this?"

"No, not at all." He shakes his head, then turns calmly to the King. "Your Majesty, correct me if I'm wrong, but I didn't get a notice about a ball tomorrow."

"There most certainly is," He says, proudly, "I arranged it for you to meet with the kingdom of Ufalme and their young princess."

A groan of annoyance comes from McKinley. "Is this about me deciding not to get married?"

"If you won't do it on your own then I'm going to have to get things done myself." Price feels McKinley's hand squeeze his own tightly and realizes that he hadn't go from when Price helped him out. He doesn't plan on letting go.

"You're seriously forcing me to get married?" A growl leaves McKinley, making Price glad he's on his side.

"If you won't choose a bride then I will." Somehow, this speech didn't feel too different from the rest. According to Connor's squeezing hand, it was different. "You need someone who will keep you from running off all the time, you could've got hurt going out into town."

Price butts in, backing up McKinley as much as he can. "He was with me, Your Highness, I can protect him just fine."

"Duke Price, your services are taken graciously but you'll have a family of your own soon. You can't always watch my son." The King says, almost praising him. It almost makes him throw up the bile that shoots up his throat.

"None of this is fair, Kevin isn't leaving my side anytime soon and you can't change that!" McKinley shouts, running away from the conversation to dash down the hall.

"Connor!" Kevin quickly follows after, unsure how Connor could be faster than him.

When Connor stops, it's at his bedroom. He opens the door and slams it shut, Kevin hears the lock turn. He jiggles the handle then presses his forehead against the cold door.

"Connor, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that this ball was being planned, I promise I'm not lying. I had no clue." He pleas, but he isn't wrong. He wasn't aware of this, and he knows he could have changed it.

"I don't blame you, Kevin, I just," Connor's muffled voice hitches, "need to be alone."

Kevin can feel himself start to shake in his own fear. "I'm sorry, I would've stopped it from happening if I knew."

"I believe you." Soft sobs come from behind the door. "Please leave me be, for now."

Kevin's eyes close, speaking softly through the door. "I won't let him do something you don't want. I promise, Connor."

He means that promise, he's never broken a promise to Connor. Not now, not ever. Because he knows his worse fear is losing Connor to someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say since I addressed the big issues already so I'm sorry if this seems like a filler chapter.
> 
> I am also sorry to any true violinists out there who cringed at me trying to write a violinist. I only had lessons for violin for 2 weeks and I wasn't any good. Please forgive my mistakes.
> 
> Next time, a little bit of smut because I waited for 4 chapters, God damn it, and I want to write some dirty stuff.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: (a little) Smut
> 
> That's right, I'm back baby. And I brought smut, some Chris magic and some hurt/comfort with adorable fluff. Who's ready for a party that will only last one chapter until I decide not to be lazy and write the next one!
> 
> Real quick about the smut:  
> The smut is explicit, and I tried. If it makes you hot and bothered, then my work here is done. If it doesn't, shut up, I tried.  
> If you don't want to read it, good news, you don't have to! There'll be a break and after that, Kevin goes over the big important moments so anybody who doesn't read the smut will be caught up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I don't know if you'll like this chapter because it was really hard to write. I pushed myself super hard to get it done today because I wasted so much time not writing it, so if it feels rushed to you, please don't complain about it.
> 
> Anyway, enough of me crushing my self-esteem,  
> Enjoy some sin!

He groans and flops onto the loveseat, dramatically laying his arm across his face. His right boot begins attacking the heel of his other. "I am never celebrating anything ever again."

Kevin laughs, placing the folded up boa-cape onto the vanity chair. "You say that every party yet you still have them.

Connor, scrunching his nose, moves his arm only a little. The boot flies off his foot and he begins itching at the other. "Kev, if I have to talk to one more bureaucrat, I don't know how much longer I can last."

He grabs the right boot, pulling it off easily without hurting Connor. "Alright, I heard you the first time. Just shut up."

Giggling, he grabs hold of Kevin's long, white coat and pulls him down. "Well then, you better start kissing me."

A small cheeky smile appears on Kevin's face, looming over Connor's relaxed but persistent form. "If that's the only way to stop you from complaining then I should've taken that offer years ago."

Leaning into a chaste kiss, Connor's hands make their way off his coat and onto his shirt. Kevin drops the boot, slowly removing his coat and hearing the clanking of jewels clatter against the floor.

The chaste kiss slowly turns passionate as Connor undoes the silk, lace collar around Kevin's neck. He lets out a soft moan when thin, warm fingers caress his neck, unbuttoning the bright blue and sparkly vest on Connor. Soon enough, both of their tight, dignified clothes are off. Connor is left in his wavy, white shirt, with pants so close to being off, and draped across the loveseat.

When Kevin pulls away from their kiss, he smiles, seeing Connor's bright red lips and blushing freckled cheeks. His icy blue eyes are lidded and almost hidden by red stray hairs from his slick, back hair. It's arousing, seeing that Connor looks more beautiful each time Kevin looks at him.

" _My king_ ," he says, breathlessly, "my perfect, precious king."

Even in the shadow of the room, Connor's blushing face is visible. Slowly, Kevin feels a soft hand brush against the back of his neck and run smoothly into his hair. "You shouldn't praise me so highly. I may be king but I'm not _that_ important."

He smiles, pressing their foreheads together. "Please, the words that leave my mouth could never be high enough to describe you. You are a true god amongst us."

Connor shifts and sits up as much as his tired body will let him. "I am not-"

Kevin, cutting him off with a short kiss, stares lovingly into his eyes. "Compared to a lowly dog such as I, you are a god. I would die for you."

"Oh, Kevin!" His hand moves downwards and catches Kevin’s face, holding him for a deeper, longer kiss. It's the sort of kiss Kevin had wanted to give him a thousand times before. It's the kiss he feels building just behind his lips since the first time he’d found Connor attractive, and it had lingered there forever after that, waiting for its chance to finally escape. It begins to feel better, losing himself to such love and rush of physical contact. Kevin knows he wants to bask in this wonderful feeling of freedom a lot longer than he intended. The kiss is slowly broken, a warm and loving smile with raw, red lips emerges onto Connor's face. "All that for me?"

"And so much more." Kevin smiles, a sparkle in his eye.

"You're really not a dog, Kevin, not to me." His thumb rubs his cheek, gently. Then concern mixes with love. "Do you really see yourself as a dog?"

"Not all the time." Kevin glances away, trying to avoid eye contact. "Just around you."

He sighs, and Kevin knows he's preparing a speech. "Please tell me this isn't about status."

"It's not," he mumbles, "I kinda like being called that."

"Well then," He giggles, wrapping his arms around Kevin's neck. "be a good boy and carry me to bed. We'll have much more fun there."

The phrase went straight to his dick, making Kevin move quicker than he's ever moved before. He slides his hand under Connor's ass, gently squeezing it and then lifting him off the loveseat. Connor lets out a soft moan and wraps his legs around Kevin's waist. Connor presses a soft, chaste kiss to the other’s lips. Against chapped lips, Connor's are soft and warm, tasting a little bit like cinnamon. It's addictive. He returns the soft pecks back to Connor’s cheeks, nose, forehead, eyelids - he wants to bury him in kisses. With each kiss, Connor giggles in delight.

"You're needy tonight, what's on your mind?" Connor asks as Kevin lays him on the bed as gently as possible, letting his legs hang over the side of the bed. Even though he placed him there, Connor somehow has sprawled his body on the sheets and looks like a meal.

"Just you, that's all." He smiles, removing his own white, wavy shirt. Once Kevin has it off, he places his hands on either side of Connor's body. "For so long  _I_ couldn't do this, but now you're the lawmaker."

Giggling, Connor quickly rids his legs of the stiff pants. "I wouldn't have minded if you yourself had done this earlier."

His eyes shift away, almost in shame. "It wasn't my place."

"It is now," He leans up and latches onto the silk shirt, kissing Kevin's cheek, "you're all mine."

"Con," he moans as Connor rolls his hips against the bulge strained in his black pants. Slowly, his hand moves along the fabric of his underwear.

"Let me take care of myself, I don't want to feel pain in the morning." His voice is a near whisper as if the world around them will shatter. Letting go of the shirt, his body bounces back onto the sheets.

"But we did it before, and you had no problem letting me stick my fingers in you," Kevin says, quietly.

"At the time, I didn't really care who I was with." He smiles, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. "But I have always known that I wanted our first time to be special, if it ever happened."

"And here we are." Kevin returns the smile, but then his face becomes concerned. "Do you know what you're doing?"

An eye roll comes from Connor and he slides his hand under his boxers "I've read enough books to understand how sex works, Kev. It'll be fine."

He begins to move his hand, hiding his finger slipping into his hole, eyes half-lidded as he stretches himself. His muscles are gently twitching, so unused to the sensations as Connor's face is contorted in pleasure.

Kevin stares at Connor's lower half for a moment, staring at the small fingers moving under his underwear. He notices that the bulge in Connor's underwear twitching, and sneaks his hands towards Connor's hips before pulling the slim hips towards his face.

He kisses the fabric, then traces a pulsing vein with his tongue. Connor squeals above him, eyes wide and nervous. The sound almost makes him lose his mind.

With husky breath and gentle nuzzling, his fingers move to the rim of his underwear. "Let me take it off."

"You too," Connor whispers, moving his hand away from underneath his underwear. He quickly wipes his fingers on them and tugs at Kevin's shirt. "Don't wanna be the only one. If I'm naked, you're naked."

Kevin gives a small nod and quickly removed his pants while Connor messes with the buttons on his own shirt. Their movements are fast, erratic, and needy for physical contact. Clothing is thrown away, neither worried if the sleeves or buttons are ripped, leaving both exposed and heated.

Kevin remembers happiness like this and hasn't felt it in a long time. The last time Kevin felt this, he was a child. His father brought him on a diplomatic trip to one of the nearby kingdoms and it was the greatest trip of his life. Now, that happiness has returned, only this time, it feels different. There's another feeling wrapped in that happiness. He can't place his finger on it, but it's not hiding, it's out in the open. Kevin guesses it's love.

"Get up here," Connor cries as he pulls Kevin onto the bed by his shirt, slowly lifting it above his head. "if we're going to be intimate, then at least don't do it off the bed."

"At least I don't hog the bed." He coyly retorts, sliding his legs up the covers.

Connor sits up on his elbows, watching as Kevin moves downwards. "If you're implying tha-"

His voice is cut off by a moan as Kevin, leaning in, tentatively licks at Connor’s slit. They aren't large and sloppy, his kitten licks are soft and gentle, testing the waters.

He rubs Connor's thigh, putting soft pressure on it to gain his attention. Connor has flopped into his pillows, heavily breathing as if he'll cum right then and there.

"Relax," he whispers, squeezing the soft, pale flesh, "you've done so much today that I'm surprised you're still awake."

"But I don't want you having all the fun." Connor pouts, whimpering a bit.

"Trust me, it'll be fun for you too." Kevin pins Connor's legs down so he won't squirm anymore. He places gentle kisses on Connor's length, knowing that Connor is watching him.

He moves up slowly, exaggerating each kiss. Eventually, he arrives at the leaking head. It tastes like sweat and skin, and the bitterness doesn’t even bother Kevin like he expected. He hears a soft moan above him and works his tongue even harder to get more noises out of the new king of Mormoni.

"Kevin, please-" Connor tries to fight against him, squirming in place. At Connor's whining, he takes more of it into his mouth. Wrapping his lips tightly around the head, and flicking his tongue at the sensitive underside. Bobbing his head further along the shaft each time, his cheeks hollowing, and his eyes half-lidded with desire.

Connor's moans are bouncing off the walls, making Kevin move his tongue faster. It's heavenly to hear them, listening to such wanton moans, a heavy but accepted feeling rolls in Kevin's stomach. He can feel Connor's prick screaming for release as his tongue grazes the slit.

Kevin feels a hand tug at his hair and glances up to see Connor, cheeks flushed, lips parted and lidded eyes, panting as he watched him. No words were spoken, but he could tell that Connor is begging for some kind of release.

He nods, moving off the upper part of his legs to let Connor move. Immediately, he bucks up, filling Kevin's mouth a lot faster than he ever could. He gags, but doesn't hate it and lets the bucking continue until Connor is-

* * *

Drenched in sweat and heaving, Kevin sits upright in bed. His hands attack the sheets, trying to figure out where he is until his breathing regulates. Kevin's eyes glance around slowly, swallowing thickly but quickly relaxing once he sees nothing has changed. He's in his bedroom, not the real one but a rental while it's being renovated. He's in the creaky, broken-springs, bed that he came back to rest in after each day. The room still smells of old wood and his cologne and the three wicker chairs are still gross-looking. He feels safer than he's ever felt before in this room.

He doesn't know what just happened, but it felt so real. Connor's movements, his pretty face and dreamy eyes, his thickness of his prick in his mouth-.

Kevin shudders, realizing that the dream felt too real. It couldn't have, could it? But then again, it might've since the taste of Connor still resides in his mouth. And the fight for dominance over the other was so prominent that it's arousing just to think about. He runs a hand through his damp hair, letting his tongue move slowly around in his mouth and tasting the saltiness that wasn't truly there. Kevin tries to recall the events in his mind, there was something off about that dream.

_"My king"_

The words softly echoed in the back of his head. What was that supposed to mean? Well, that's a stupid question with no elaboration and Kevin knows it but doesn't change the phrasing. None of this - the dream, the realism of it, and it's meaning - makes any sense.

"Oh good, you're up." Kevin jumps at the sound of the other voice in the room. "Chill out, it's just me. Jeez, you're a feisty puppy tonight."

He groans in annoyance at the sound of Chris's teasing but quietly hides his erection. "Why are you in my room at this hour?"

Chris giggles, crossing his legs in the chair in the corner. In his hand is a small bottle, Kevin doesn't really want to know what it is so he tries to forget about it. "Because I wanted to make sure you weren't having any late-night snacks. However, it looked like you were enjoying a helpful dose of wet dream."

He rolls his eyes. "I was not."

"You've got an erection and everything, so don't tell me you weren't having a nice dream." Chris smile is wide, making Kevin hope that he doesn't really know who the dream was about. "Even your shirt is off you're so hot and bothered!"

"Shut up, my shirt's off because it's too hot in here." It's the truth, it is too hot in the gross, small room. He usually sleeps without a shirt, and sometimes pants, if it's really disgusting. He reaches next to him, grabbing a white shirt on his pillow.

A head tilt from Chris tries to get more information out of him. "From you jacking off in dreamland?"

"No, are you that stupid?" Kevin quietly guesses that he is since he has such a perverted mind. "From this horrible rental room."

"This place is a rental? I guess that makes sense, it's too gross for such a prim and proper person like you." He tries not to take offense from that. "Why are you in this stuffy room anyway?"

"Got too big for my room too fast, they need to fix it," Kevin replies, already having the phrase ready for anyone who asks.

"Well, it certainly does suit your needs if you needed to be in a secluded area." Chris rocks back and forth in the chair, the small bottle's liquids moving along with him.

Kevin frowns, giving him an annoyed look. The be honest, he's kind of sick of the trickster sorcerer being a jerk. "Stop messing around and get to the point before I get the guards to throw you out of this castle for good."

"Fine, fine, but you can't let anything we say here leave between us. Piknium swear it." He holds out his pinky, waiting for Kevin to do the same.

"What does that mean?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"It's sort of an upgraded version of the non-magic user's 'pinky swear.' If you break it, then you have to do things for me." Chris replies, holding his finger out further for Kevin to take.

He doesn't like the idea that he has to be a servant for Chris, a person that could probably get him killed. "Yeah, I'm not doing that."

"Oh, come on, it doesn't allow one promiser to kill the other and it retaliates to me if I break it." Reluctantly, Kevin takes his pinky with his own. A small, yellow circle spins around them for a few seconds until disappearing.

"Okay, so remember earlier today when I gave you that Pop-Tart?" Kevin briefly nods, "well it did have some magic in it. Future-seeing magic."

"What? How far into the future?" He questions, asking too quickly for his brain to catch up. He can feel his cheeks heat up at the idea that his dream came from not so long from now.

"I'm not sure, I'm still trying to figure that out." Chris groans and then takes a swing into the bottle he's got. He breathes heavily for a few seconds, then scribbles something down.

"What are you doing?" Kevin shifts in his bed, removing the covers from his body but not enough to reveal his erection to Chris.

"Enhancer, I'm trying to get as much detail as possible. You might want to drink this." He tosses a blue bottle on the bed, letting Kevin pick it up and open the cork. "Suppressor, it'll help you."

"Why would I-" His question is answered by the pain of the upcoming vision in his head. For a few seconds, he can see Connor laying seductively with his hands above his head. When the vision is gone as quickly as it came, he grunts at the massive headache.

"That's why, just drink it throughout the day and you'll be fine," Chris says, hopping off the chair. "Come with me, we'll go to my room to get more."

The two quickly walk out the room but that doesn't stop Kevin from asking questions. It's just the two of them in the dead of night, whispering in the quiet hall. "How did you know it was a future tart?"

"I had a dream of my own." Chris hesitates and slows his quick movements.

"Oh, then what was it about?" Kevin asks, a little curious if he had a similar dream.

"Nothing that concerns you!" Chris snaps at him, making Kevin realize he should probably not make the sorcerer mad.

He slowly recovers, hoping to get some real information. "Okay then, then what _can_ you tell me?"

"There was some kind of plan created between me and you. Something with a mask and some magic, I'm not sure." Chris explains, opening the door to the Left Wing. "I can't really go into detail since I don't really have much of a clue what I'm writing down, but you can have a look at it."

As they climb the spiral staircase, Kevin opens the first page of the notebook. The notebook is mostly, for what Kevin can tell, full of scribbles. He can only make out a few words, along with some clothing designs.

"It might be a plan to make Connor king," Kevin states, rereading the notes.

"That's a little odd. Did the two of you look a little different than you do now?" He wonders, not looking back at him.

Kevin shakes his head, "No, we didn't look any different than we do now. Even our clothes were the same."

"I see." Chris stops walking. "I'll think about that. Was there anything else you said or he mentioned?"

A fake laugh exits Kevin's mouth, trying to avoid any more questions. "Nope. Nothing at all. That was it."

A brisk nod comes from Chris, as he climbs the rest of the stairs to the top of his tower. Kevin's never really been up here since there are too many stairs, but there's a first time for everything. When they reach the top, the door swings open automatically and Chris walks straight to a large table.

The circular room's ceiling is high, really high, with tall shelves reaching the top. Each shelf is either filled with boxes, potion bottles or books stolen from the library that were never brought back. There's a large hammock swung across one of the shelves, as if physics matter to a sorcerer. Near the staircase, a door is engraved in the wall and Kevin assumes it's the closet, though he isn't sure how it works.

Kevin spins slowly around the room, basking in its vastness. "I want to doubt that Connor gave you this room. But honestly, I can't right now."

"Oh, Connor didn't give this to me. The Left Wing has always been in my family for centuries." Chris replies, using his magic to hop from one shelf to another. He gathers some of the many ingredients from the many boxes.

"Seriously? You've been with the McKinley family for centuries. How did I not know this?" Kevin's read every historical, diplomatic educational book that's out there and not once has he heard about the Thomas family.

"The Thomas family is mostly kept secret in the history books. Commoners don't often like hearing that a family of sorcerers is close to the royal family." He informs, reaching into a box. For a small person, Chris isn't afraid of heights, Kevin keeps this information as a mental note. "Had to fix them after my 5 greats-uncle was killed by a mob."

"Oh," he replies, quietly. He takes a swing at the suppressor as the sound of clinking bottles increases.

Chris softly mumbles to himself, presumably looking for specific ingredients. He works super fast like he does and doesn't know this place by heart. When he has an ingredient he wants, Chris uses his magic to lower it down to the table. Kevin isn't sure if he's being lazy or safe.

"Okay then," he says, coming back down to the ground. He organizes the ingredients and begins working. He smashes some of the ingredients, making loud crunching sounds that are relaxing on the ear.

Kevin tilts his head, sitting down on a cushioned seat by the large window. "Are you going to boil that stuff in a pot?"

"Please, witches do that old technique because they are still stuck in the stone age." Chris's tone of voice sounds is hateful, turning prideful in seconds. "And don't ever think that I'd use a grimy old pot for my potions."

As Chris mixes the crushed ingredients, Kevin feels the ache in his head return and take a long sip of the suppressor. Slowly, the ingredients become a liquid and Chris places the liquid mixture into a small bowl to simmer. "I'll have at least twelve bottles ready by morning, and maybe even have a better idea about this plan."

"So I can leave?" Kevin raises an eyebrow, unsure if he even should be here in the first place.

"Yeah, just leave that bottle here and I'll fill it up." Kevin does as he says, and walks towards the entrance. "Night"

Quickly, he closes the door and hurries down the stairs as fast as he can without falling and hurting his butt. It's a bit odd why the Left Wing is so tall, but it makes sense. Chris and his family's past doesn't want to be found out. So they hide as much as they can. It's a little sad.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs and enters the hall, the room becomes spooky. It's dark except for the shining moonlight from the tall windows that run down the hallway walls. Kevin's never had to walk the halls at night, except for special occasions.

When he turns the corner to see that there's a small light coming from under the library door, Kevin assumes this is one of those special occasions. He walks as quietly as he can towards the door, slowly opening it.

Inside is the redheaded prince, sitting at one of the many tables with a small candle lit beside him. His chattering teeth echo throughout the large room but he doesn't take mind of the sound as he looks down at the book in front of him.

When he opens to door more, it creaks and makes Connor jump. It wasn't Kevin's plan to scare him, but he'll go with it.

"I didn't think tonight would be one of those nights." He says, walking towards him.

Connor nods, but it's very robotic. "It's fine, and I'm fine. I knew my luck would run out eventually, didn't think it'd be so soon."

"Connor, I'm really so-"

"Please stop apologizing." He interrupts. "None of this is your fault, it's mine."

Something is wrong, Kevin can tell. His hands are in his lap, he's hunched over and, now closer to the light, Kevin can see the tear streaks on his cheeks. "No, it's not-"

"Yes, it is!" Connor blurts out, standing straight out of his chair and letting it push back onto the ground, his voice bouncing angrily off the walls. "I'm the one who's not doing what I should be doing. I'm not following the path that's set perfectly out for me by everyone I know. You do all this hard work just for me to have a good future and I ruin it!"

"That isn't true." Kevin retaliates, stepping towards him, knowing that Connor has started to blame himself for everything that has gone wrong in the past months. "And you know it's not. You don't have to follow anything. You're the person who's not afraid to say what you think, Connor. You fight for what you want even if the world is against you. You're still an amazing person, no matter who you love, Connor."

"I can't do this anymore, Kev." His voice shakes as he looks up. Connor's blue eyes have become glassy and filled with now unleashed tears.

As Kevin moves closer, Connor grabs at him, letting his body lean against Kevin. He notices how heavy and weak Connor is, a wave of tears dampening his shirt.

"I'm so scared, so, so scared. He's going to kill me, I know it! He'll kill me if I don't marry her." Connor whispers into his arms.

Kevin slowly helps him regain his footing on the ground, holding him close to his chest. "Connor, please talk to me. What happened."

"The nightmare that I had, I-I wouldn't marry any of the girls and he-." A soft sob leaves him, hesitating on what he wants to say. "He kept hitting me. And-and-and nobody stopped it. Not James, not any of my sisters, not Chris, not even you."

"That won't happen. I promise you, none of that would ever happen." He feels his own heart break as he gives Connot a soft squeeze.

Connor sniffs, lifting his head to look into Kevin's eyes. "How would you know?"

"Well even if your father did get violent with you, the whole town would attack the castle and make you king in five seconds flat." Connor softly laughs, a small smile returning to his teary-eyed face.

He thinks harder, getting an idea of what Connor's sisters would do. "And even if that didn't happen, I'm sure Annalise would come busting in with the rebellion by her side to protect you. Heck, Tiffany and James would probably order every single knight to join them."

Gently, Kevin moves his thumb to wipe the long, messy tear streaks. "I guess you're right. Chris would probably attack him with magic and put his head on a mantel. And Olivia and Meghan could find some law about beating the heir to the throne and get him that way."

He adds to the mental note about Chris, now knowing not to make Connor cry. Connor's voice brings him back, "that makes me wonder, what would you be doing?"

Kevin thinks for a moment, what would he do? He's gotten mad before, but it's never been rage-level angry. Maybe seeing Connor so helpless would make him snap. "I wouldn't stand by and watch him hurt you. If I had to, I'd kill him myself. It'd probably be a long fight, but I'd die for you."

"Oh, Kevin." Connor sniffs, a small look of astonishment appears on his face. "All that for me?"

"And so much more." He replies, remembering similar words were spoken in his dream.

A small awkward giggle leaves Connor. "I feel like I should give something in return."

"How about you let me show you some of my favorite books." Kevin slowly links his hand with Connor's, feeling the difference of the size of their hands.

"And what type of book is that?" He asks, letting his legs move again.

"Fairy tales." A small snicker is held back by Connor. "Don't laugh, I enjoy them!"

"I guess showing me won't hurt anyone." He sighs, licking his lips. "Maybe it'll get my mind off this horrible, horrible night."

"I promise you, they will." Kevin slowly lets go of Connor, leaving him to look for the book. He knows exactly where it is since it never moves from its spot in the fifth section of the fourth shelf. Kevin quickly pulls it down and hurries back to Connor, sitting where he was before. Soon, giggling through the night, the two boys read over each story with quiet commentary. For continuous moments, their eyes would meet and stare into each other's eyes until they tear away back to the book.

Neither of them know who did it first but sometime during the night, their lips meet. Connor's lips are warm, somewhat silkier than Kevin had felt in the dream. The dream's kisses were hungry and frantic, but smooth and loving. This kiss, reality's kiss, is gentle, nice and nervous. It's just how a kiss should be.

He’s never felt closer to Connor than he does right there with no barriers between them, nothing between their skin, not even the dark or the moonlight. It feels as if eons had gone by when they finally break apart. It had been an innocent, almost chaste kiss; their lips had merely touched with the slightest pressure. And it was wonderful.

He doesn't realize how early in the morning it is until he hears the birds tweeting outside and Connor starts to fall asleep against his arm. He lifts him up bridal style and carries him to his room. He feels happy when Connor cuddles into his chest.

"Kevin." Connor finally speaks as Kevin opens his bedroom door.

"Yes?"

A sleepy smile appears as Kevin lays him on the bed. "I liked that kiss."

Kevin returns the smile, climbing onto the bed beside him. "So did I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, I wonder what Chris dreamed about. Guess you'll have to wait (that isn't coming very soon btw.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not one but TWO people in the castle are having love problems. This chapter starts with Connor but switches to Chris. Thought mixing things up a little like that would be entertaining... and it is (if you're a fan of stupid drama)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOOOOO  
> Everything is good and I don't feel like dying! I was so worried that I wasn't going to make the deadline on time, but I'VE DONE IT!
> 
> I wanna thank my two very best friends for helping me edit. They are two beautiful people for putting up with my constant texting them to look at my crap and I love them.
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy!

Slowly, Connor wakes up from the night before with his head hurting from crying. What did he even do last night? That question gets quickly answered by his brain recapping the night: his nightmare, his outbreak at Kevin, the two talking and reading until morning, his first kiss. Everything floods back to him, and it feels great.

He reminisces about the warmth of Kevin's lips, how sweet and calm their kiss was, and how similar the warmth is to Kevin's personality. He was so caring and kind during Connor's mental breakdown that nothing else matters.

Finally, Connor notices that Kevin no longer is in his room. He slept there during the night, yet his warm body is not beside him. Connor hops quickly out of the bed, grabs his boa-cape off of his loveseat, wrapping it around his body, and runs towards the door. Turning the knob, he pulls the door open to see Kevin, all dressed in his normal attire, holding a hanger holding something covered up by a sheet.

"Glad to see you up and ready to go." Kevin sputters, a small, almost fake, smile appears on his face, however, his eyes look tired. He doesn’t look like his usual wide-awake self, and now, Connor begins to worry.

"You didn't wake me up this morning." Connor does not return the smile, reaching to hold Kevin’s face to have a closer look at his worn out eyes.

As Connor moves closer, Kevin backs away with a somewhat nervous look on his face.

The way he’s acting is too odd but confused and concerned, Connor lets him in with no problem. When Kevin rustles the clothes, there's a soft sound of clinking that comes from his pocket. "I was retrieving your formal wear for tonight, excuse me for trying to make you look your best."

"It's not like I want to." He stares at the door, thoughts of concern bouncing around in his head. Did he not sleep last night? Was he thinking about the kiss? Did Kevin stare at him the entire night?

Connor decides that things are alright, and turns toward Kevin with a more calmed expression. He drops his body onto the loveseat, placing the boa-cape to hang on the side. "Maybe if I don't look good it'll scare her off."

For a moment, Connor notices Kevin stiffen as he places the clothing by the vanity. There's a look of nervousness on his face reflected in the mirror. A clench in his jaw and a hitch in his breath. His fingers press against the sheet, clutching the fabric tightly as if he wants to say something.

"Everything will be fine." He says, closing his eyes, deep in thought.

“You’re right,” Connor takes a deep breath, putting on a smile, and rises from the loveseat to walk towards to Kevin. When he's finally face to face with the brunette, he plays with his collar, messing with the smooth silk. "Because you'll be there to help me."

Kevin's gloved hand rubs the back of his neck, pulling away. "Actually, I can't attend tonight's ball."

"Are you serious?” His eyes widen at hearing this news. Surely Kevin couldn’t be using that excuse to be trying to get away from him.

"A family issue came up. My father's really angry that nobody let me know about the ball yesterday." Kevin swallows, averting his gaze. Knowing Kevin, he’s probably just worried about seeing his father. Their relationship, as Connor remembers it, is mostly based on business with barely any family-talk. The only way you could tell that they were family was their looks.

Connor, now relieved, moves closer with the possibility of getting another kiss.  "Okay then. None of it really was your fault, Kevin."

"I know, and it wasn't yours either." Connor can feel himself blushing, being reminded of the calm expression from the night before.  

Cupping his hands, he glances down at them. He knows he’s nervous, but Connor has the feeling that he can’t keep his own feelings quiet any longer. "Um, Kev, last night, when we-"

"I know, and I'm sorry I acted so unprofessionally.” Kevin interrupts quickly, making Connor’s head jerk up. “It won’t affect my role as your servant ever again."

With widened eyes, Connor blinks, taken aback. Did he really not like it? Or was status really all it was about? "Unprofessional? Affect your role as my servant? Kevin, you didn't-"

"I didn’t intend for that to happen, and it won't happen again." He quickly glances at the clock hanging by the closet. With long strides, Kevin makes his way towards the door. "I have to leave you since the meeting is about to start, so you'll have to dress by yourself."

His mind is having a breakdown, but he keeps himself composed. "Kevin, please listen to me-"

"I'll see you tomorrow." The door shuts as quickly as it was opened, leaving the room in total silence.

Basking in the silence, Connor gapes of what just happened. There are so many questions he has in his mind right now, but he doubts they’ll be answered.  

_Why does he always do that?_ He swallows thickly, placing a hand on his chest. The hole there has become a discomfort he's used to. However, this time, the hole has grown more. This feeling is normal, but the increase in pain in his heart is not. He softly wipes the unshed tears from his eyes and grabs his formal clothes.

They aren’t his normal baby blue, which is fine because the rose red is not a horrible contrast. However, it isn’t his style. The coat isn’t long enough and there certainly isn’t anything special about it, with no sparkles or fun jewelry like he’d normally wear to parties like these. Such simplistic designs would never do if he was supposed to wear it.

He sighs, running a slow hand into his hair.  Last night was when the two of them finally connected. There was no need for titles or roles to take place, it was just the two of them. It was magical, not perfect, but it felt like it. Just the thought of it makes him swoon. Nevertheless, Kevin was back to his old, reclusive self when the sun rose.

It was strange, but it was more like he was strange. Now that Connor thinks about it, he showed all the signs that Kevin did when he was nervous: fake smiles, a discomfort to physical touch, and his rigid movements were all there. He’s seen them all before during incredibly important meetings and, sometimes, when seeing his own father. Maybe there was a bit of hope after all.

But, then again, maybe there wasn’t. Kevin avoided his advances to talk about the kiss or the night in all of its wonderful glory. It was almost bittersweet, thinking about it now; the one night the two of them finally got to be themselves, where vulnerable feelings were shoved out into the open, and Kevin’s words, before he dozed off, whispering that he too enjoyed that kiss, was soon to be forgotten when the morning sun came up and never to be spoken or remembered again.

Connor folds the clothes to fit into his arms, knowing that there was little time until tonight’s ball. So he grabs his boa-cape and walks quickly down the hall towards the Royal Tailor’s workshop to upgrade the atrocities of his formal wear.

* * *

 

They had ten days until Connor becomes King. Ten days for Connor and Kevin to get together, if nothing went wrong. Seven days until he and that aggravating General Church are-

Chris shakes his head, hoping to get the dream, more like nightmare, out of his head. It wasn’t possible to fall in love with someone in seven days. All the men he had been with before had never stayed for long, mostly because he left them if there was anything other than sexual actions between them.

He mixes the bowl in his hand, the blue liquid becoming a dark purple. It took him four hours to create it and find a mask mold that would be perfect, and now it’s almost done, yet not entirely.

He’s designed the clothes for tonight; they’re hanging on his closet doorknob. Chris’s still surprised that he was able to make the prestigious uniform in under an hour. Most of the outfit is black: a jacket that has a silver decoration in the center at the top, then a smaller one underneath. The jacket is lined with silver trims, and under the collar, a gold band. On either side of the center decoration are gold pins, with cross-shaped ends on the inner sides. The gloves are still there, at request, but there are little accessories such as a gold earring for the right ear. As well as a dark, royal blue cape that won’t move unless taken off manually.

A door slams, scaring him enough to knock Chris out of his self-pride and ready his magic to attack the person who’s entered into his room. In swift movements, he drops the bowl onto his workbench, turns around, and has a blast of magic ready to attack conjuring in his hand. The intruder raises their hands fast in surrender, the sound of armor clanking as they do so.

At his demise, the person who stands before him is the general himself. Chris groans, relaxing his magic and returned back to his workbench.

“Good to see you again, Sir Thomas. A warm welcome, might I add.” Church begins, trying to make his near-death experience as lighthearted as possible.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to mess with magic.” He snarks, lifting the mask mold and placing it onto a large piece of paper. Chris quickly finishes mixing and flips through the spellbook that lays open on the bench. When he finds the right page, he realizes that Church is strangely quiet and glances over his shoulder to see the knight shifting uncomfortably.

Chris turns back to his book, unsure whether he should ask why Church is so quiet, a shallow sigh is heard behind him. Suddenly, he notices that Church is standing right behind him and reading off the spellbook.

He huffs, glaring at him over his shoulder. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“I am doing something, admiring you, your talent and your beauty, all at the same time.” Church’s voice is soft as he examines the bleach-blond curls that sit messily on Chris’ head. Steadily, Church’s hand reaches for one of his curls to feel it, but not moving fast enough to grab it until Chris slaps it away.

“That’s flattering, but I have no time to flirt with a playboy.” He utters, rotating around to block the rest of the workbench. Chris glares him down, searching in his grey eyes. He’s no psychic (not that he’d ever want to be) but Chris knows he’s good at reading body language from all the training with Connor. “That’s right, I’ve heard about you. You stick with girls for about a week and then the two of you strangely break up. Sounds to me like you’re a heartbreaker, and I don’t mess with those.”

Church raises an eyebrow, “But you’re just describing my relationships with women, so what knowledge do you have that proves I do the exact same thing with men?”

A long sigh enters and exits Chris, and he knows that there’s no way to actually prove his accusation without forcing Church to drink a potion or perform magic that could hurt him. He decides not to cause a problem; it wouldn’t end up well in either his or Connor’s favor.

“And I’m not a heartbreaker, however,” Church continues, staring down at him and pushing him up against the workbench, “you might be one with such pretty looks.”

Chris straightens, ready to defend himself at the comment as he shoves the knight away from him. “Are you calling me a twink?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I said you were pretty, not a piece of meat people gawk at.” His answer seems genuine but there’s not much proof to it by his standards.

“I guess I can thank you for that,” Chris grumbles, glancing down at his clothes. He hasn’t changed his nightclothes, the soft yellow shirt becoming more uncomfortable the longer he wore it.

Walking towards his closet, the doors swiftly open on their own at the wave of Chris’ hand. Church looks a little surprised but intrigued by his magic, it’s odd. Entering the closet, Chris removes the shirt and throws it to the side.  

“That tattoo,” Chris freezes for a second at the mention of the mark on his neck. “it’s beautiful but where’d you get it? Many of my knights have tattoos but I’ve never-”

“Seen anything like it before?” He quickly retaliates, hoping his freeze-up wasn’t noticed, but his rude filler was. He takes a breath and gives the needed explanation for the pale gold circular mark. “It’s a mark that’s given to a sorcerer when they’re born, so it’s not very common to a normal person.”

“Is it possible that I could get one?”

“No,” Chris replied, flatly and honestly, “only magic-users get one.”

“How can I learn magic?” The question shocks him, and he quickly shoots his head in Church’s direction, who is now leaning against the door and staring at his figure.

“Why would you want to?” Scoffs Chris, reaching for one of the outfits hanging. “To kill?”

“No, to heal!” The knight replies, walking closer to him but not enough to feel threatened.  “I could help people, heal them during battle in seconds and my men could keep going. Can I learn how?”

The idea of a human wanting to gain healing abilities seemed unreal to him, it was just very unheard of by the magical community. Sure, there were instances of humans learning Wiccan magic, but he doubted those rascals with every bone in his body. But with Church being so enthusiastic about it, maybe it was possible, yet Chris does not want to take that dangerous chance.

With a heavy sigh, and placing the outfit back onto the bar, only to pick up another one. “You can’t, a person has to be born with it.” He isn’t sure how to explain magic to a human, but he thinks about the easiest way to explain it while staring at the jeweled outfit. “Think of magic as a genetic spark passed down by people. Sorcerers, witches, and even alchemists are the only ones born with that spark.”

“Aren’t you guys all the same? I mean, you all use magic so what’s the dif-”

Angrily, Chris drops the clothes onto the floor and marches swiftly towards Church. “No, and don’t _ever_ compare me and any other sorcerer with those elders and fakers.”

Church raises his hands in defense. “Alright, no need to get angry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” another scoff leaves his mouth, ”none of you humans really know anything about magic, do you?”

“It’s not like they teach us about it in school.” Church mentions, mumbling even at what Chris believes is the truth.

“I’m sure they don’t since the system is so screwed up to even care about us magic-users. But, then again, that's the reason so many stories of witchcraft and magic exist as folktales.” He says, flatly, returning to the outfit dropped as silence slowly fills the room.

For a moment, Chris subtly notices that Church has relaxed within the silence. The softer look in his eyes says it all. He looks so at peace, and, to Chris' surprise, he almost finds him handsome. “So is that what you’re wearing for tonight because that is not your color.”

His thoughts of how gentle the knight looked were interrupted by the small, snarky remark. “Excuse me?”

He gestures towards the formal wear. “I mean, I get you’re one of those people with a rude attitude but I didn’t take you for the emo type.”

“Oh, that’s not mine.”

“Then whose is it?” Church asks.

“A patron of mine asked me to make it for tonight.” He lies. “Besides, I don’t even plan on dancing tonight.”

He hopes that Church does believe it, and he fails but only halfway. “Please don’t tell me you’re so sour that you don’t even know how to have fun, so you stay in here.”

“I know how to have fun, I’m just-”

“Not a party person?” Church finishes for him. A smug but playful look appears across his face. “It could be fun if you just put down those beakers.”

_Sophia_

He pauses, thinking back to past memories of her as he stares at his clothes. If he goes, then this might trigger the events in the next seven days. Is it worth it?

“F-fine, I’ll go.” Chris replies, knowing that Church might not shut up until he gets what he wants.

“Huh, I’m surprised that you’re interested in hanging out with me tonight.” His voice falters, the stylised relaxed tone is now gone from Church.

He realizes his walls were broken down for a minute and slowly rebuilds them, his sharp tone returning. “No, but if you keep talking about it then I might change my mind.”

“Does this mean you and I might dance tonight?”

In absolute annoyance, a heavy, exaggerated sigh leaves Chris as he slides the clothes hangers down. “If you leave now and leave me alone for the rest of the day, then I’ll owe you a dance tonight.”

Things go quiet until he notices that Church has come up behind him. His hand, full of calluses and scrapes, tilts Chris's face towards his.   His mouth wears a smirk but hesitation dances in his eyes. He knows Church wants a kiss to seal their deal, it's quite obvious by the look on his face, but the way he moves isn't forceful or rushed. It's slow and almost asking for permission, which Chris begrudgingly grants him. His one charitable act for the day. Their kiss is a soft peck and only lasts for a few seconds until Church pulls away. “Then till tonight."

As Church leaves with his warm fingers, he realizes something: in some ways, he’s like every other man he’s met, but Church is a little different. It’s not like Chris ever got to know those men, more or less care about them, they were summer flings at best, but somehow, Church manages to separate himself from the rest.

He’s a knight, and for all Chris knows they’re rowdy and rude, though Church’s occasional hints toward a kinder side deviate from this assumption. And the fact that he’d rather use magic to not kill is a bit reassuring. Plus, he was genuinely sweet when he was trying to be. Maybe he could fall for him in seven days, or maybe he’s just a fool for trying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to bother me about anything and/or be kept up on updates, follow me on Instagram @clp_the_fanfic_writer. I have yet to create a Tumblr so Instagram is the only way to see how I'm doing. I actually update fairly regularly (even I'm surprised by that).
> 
> Next up, the ball that Connor doesn't want and the introduction to our favorite and only girl. Also, a new interest catches Connor's eye, but maybe they're not as new as they seem.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball begins and Connor isn't having as much fun as he suspected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up, bitches!!! Happy Valentine's Day!! Here's my special treat to you after all this time! I love y'all for sticking by my side and giving love to this fic!
> 
> Enjoy!

Tonight, his mind is stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts, stuck between the difference of reality and fantasy. One minute he's greeting guests at the front door and the next Connor's twirling on the marble dance floor in his mind. It's a wonderful and disastrous feeling that he never wants to let go.

One moment he feels nervous and ill, his heart is pounding as each guest enters and exits his sight. With every handshake, his throat clogs up. With each kiss on the hand, he feels part of him die inside. And the next, he's being swept off his feet in his pink, glittery formal wear with a dozen roses falling around him and his imaginary partner (who looks too similar to Kevin, might he add.) If the rest of the night is like this, then Connor has no chance of surviving.

“Why aren’t you smiling? Guests are still arriving and they would like to see their prince looking excited for tonight.” His father jabs his side, waking him up from the soft dreams.

“I can’t be excited if I’m being forced to marry a girl I barely have any knowledge about.” Connor murmurs, bowing his head down in fear to reveal his eyes glazing over, not wanting to be a part of this dreaded night anymore.

“Enough of that. Just try and make nice with her.” His father gives a small wink, only for Connor to roll his eyes in reply. The king lets out a sigh, before turning on his heels and facing away from the stubborn mule known as his son before he lashes out and causes an extravagant scene in front of his guests.

He feels bad for the girl he will be forced to marry. Did she feel the same for him? Maybe they could come to an agreement instead of getting married. Yet the possibility of that happening is very low considering the amount of time Father’s court spent conversing on the subject.

More guests enter and Father grunts through the side of his fictitious smile. "Connor, stop making that face."

"Am I making a sort of face? I thought facial types were genetic."

"I don't want to hear it tonight." He growls softly once the guests enter the ballroom, breathing a heavy breath of annoyance. "Make an embarrassment of our family tonight and I won't hesitate to let you spend the night in the stocks."

"Yes, Father." Connor would have to ask Kevin about the face thing later, but now, the best, and only, solution, he has is turning everything off to become the perfect little son his father wants him to be. For a moment, he feels the air grow chilly around them and his stomach churns at the thought.

* * *

His expressions may not show it, but fear lingers underneath Chris' skin. Either from his and Church's date or the plan. Choosing the perfect outfit for the night was not exactly easy but Chris decided on one eventually, or at the very least,  he thinks so. Wearing his favorite deep, low cut, silk tunic that’s scandalous enough to show off his gold belly button ring and almost reaches his tight grey pants which shaped his rear nicely. His golden cloak is wrapped around his neck, dragging on the floor and remaining untouched by his magic.

"Are you sure this is safe?" A voice asks from behind him. “Connor warned me about your magic, that it's not too stable."

"No, but are you really going to listen to Connor?" Chris retaliates, including only a hint of slight snark as he fluffs his hair. "Go get 'im, tiger"

"Thanks," he huffs, before he adds in a low voice, "and be gentle with James. He's very sweet to his lovers, even if they're together for only a week."

Before Chris can retort, the mask is on and a different person walks away. There is no resemblance to who he was talking to anymore.

Now, Chris is stuck outside the stuffy ballroom in the hallway, hoping his jitters don't show. He hates being alone, well, that's an understatement. He hates being alone when Connor is glued to his father's side. Fancy parties always begin like this: Connor is stolen away until he can finally return to Chris's side so they can run off and do their own thing. But tonight isn't one of those parties, instead, Connor has to stay in sight of everyone the entire night. Unless their plan works, the party will stay absolutely boring and the night will soon be overtaken by anxiety.

That's when he feels a pair of warm hands lay softly on his shoulders. They’re callused, firm and he can tell they’ve been scrubbed heavily. Even though he only takes a glance at them, the destroyed, curved fingernails are an easy guess on who is behind him.

"How long have you been there?" He huffs, closing his eyes and lean into the touch.

"Since you started shaking,” Church observes, his voice traveling around him. When Chris opens them, the knight appears before him, kneeling with a concerned look in his eyes. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question, you alright?”

"Just a little cold." He lies, holding the cloak tight in his grip. This shyness overtaking is out of character for him; is it because he was out and about in public with someone other than Connor? No, but the vivid dream he had experienced the other night could have something to do with it.

"Then you should've worn a different outfit," Church acknowledges, only to quickly retaliate for better phrasing, "not that I'm complaining."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" A pout became visible on his face, Chris is unsure if he’s trying to appear offended or just playful.

Church chuckles, “it certainly matches your flamboyant style. Did you make it?"

He swallows, loosening the cloak around his fingers, "No, the royal tailor did."

"She has good taste in her customers then." A sweet, charismatic grin appears on Church's - no, James’ - face.

It was then Chris finally notices James isn’t in his heavy armor. Instead of being in covered head to toe in his silver-plated armor, James is dressed prim and proper. His long coat is covered in gold accents, parted to show off his oxford blue vest and the darkened gold scruff. His hair is parted to the left side of his face, with frayed pieces of hair falling over his forehead to reach over his eyelashes.

His attention is brought back by the smug grin that now rests of James’ face. Feeling his body slightly heat up, Chris’ eyes reaches the floor. “What?”

“Were you just checking me out?” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously not! You must be daydreaming.” Chris scoffs, pointing his nose into the air trying to maintain what little pride he had left. James only beams, a hint of laughter in his mouth.

His eyes meet with the ballroom door in front of him, and he stared at it. If their plan doesn’t work, then something might go wrong. There’s this sick feeling in Chris’ stomach now, either from nerves or from him being on edge. Something gently wraps around his hands, something warm and rough.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” James repeats, his voice.

Chris nods with a shaky exhale, “I’m good.”

“I’m sorry I’m asking so much; you just seem very off tonight.”

“‘Off’ how?” An eyebrow raises.

“Like you’re waiting for something. And I know you’re not anticipating our dance.” His voice is low, concerned even.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t keep my promise?” He asks, pulling James off the ground in an effort to change the subject. “Let’s go, maybe I’ll extend our time together if you convince me.”

“I’ll do my best.” The sweet smile appears on James's face as he moves to stand. “Just one problem.”

“Let me guess, you can’t dance?" Chris wonders aloud, moving closer to him. "Is that little quip supposed to make me get closer to you?”

“Nevermind, problem solved.” He chuckles, his genuine smile returning, “you weren’t being snarky.”

“I am never snarky,” Chris scoffs, playfully, “why in Heavenly Father’s name would you care about something so minor like that?”

“I like snarky,” James opens the door, accompanied by a cheesy bow.

* * *

Once Connor has greeted all the guests who have entered the ballroom, he immediately bolts to the balcony. At this point, the lights have become an eye-strain and he really just wants a drink of champagne.

“Having a fun time, baby bro?” His sister’s voice creeps up behind him, and there, in the doorway, is Olivia with two glasses of champagne.

“If I was like Chris, I would be swearing my crown off.” He takes one of the glass in hand and gulps it down, then places it on the railing beside him. “Thanks”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo, I remember my engagement ball; that was an absolute disaster.” Olivia sighs, her long, grey dress moving with her long, auburn waves of hair.

“And you’re still married to the same jerk, I see. This isn’t an engagement ball, Liv, and I’m never having one.” Connor replies with a stern remark. He and the rest of his sisters have no remorse for the spiritless, faintly handsome king with light green eyes that is their so called brother-in-law.

“Mother would have never picked Joshua for me. She wouldn’t have minded if I had picked one of the farm boys who come here with fresh fruit.” Swirling around her drink, she stares deeply into it with regret.

“Yeah,” He says, slowly. Then the burst of energy that hid inside the champagne breaks open. “Why don’t you just run away, Liv? Anna did and, hopefully, she’s fine.”

“We all have a duty, Con, there’s a reason Father keeps you so close to the capital. You’re the heir, and you’ll one day have to expand Mormoni. And I can’t run away either, I have the same duty as you.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning his elbows onto the marble railing. “You mean being in a loveless marriage in which the opposite sex isn’t a romantic interest?”

“Obviously not, but that loveless marriage part is right.” Olivia chuckles softly. The music from the 60-man orchestra plays behind them until a new, forbidden topic arises in their presence.

“Have you heard anything from Annalise?”

There’s a long, heavy deep breath from Olivia, “No, Connor, I haven’t. Last I heard is that her army was heading North to escape the upcoming summer heat.”

They both stand quietly for a moment, as if they were grieving for her lost presence. Annalise was, and is, the only princess who decided to fight against their father. Being only two years younger than Connor, she was able to conjure an army powerful enough to fight off twelve fleets of their father’s soldiers. Annalise isn't a murderer, at least, that’s the only current knowledge that they have from the villages about Annalise.

Connor starts chuckling as a fond memory of his overly stubborn sister, “Remember the time when she was five and the cook put tomatoes in her soup. She refused to eat anything for a whole three days until you got your hands dirty.”

After a moment, she starts to laugh with him. “Oh, Heavenly Father, you’re right! I made her a pasta with hidden tomatoes and she liked it so much that she wanted me to make it every day. After twelve dishes of it, I just gave the recipe back to the chef!”

Their laughter soon dies down when a small, welcoming band of trumpets play. Their heads turn to the sound and Connor takes in a deep breath.

“It’s time to go dance with her.” Olivia states, gently.

“I know.”

“I heard she’s nice.” She reassures, but nothing in Connor’s expression changes.

“I know.”

“Father’ll yell at you if you don’t get moving.”

_“I know.”_

In that moment, time slows. The realization has finally fallen on him: he’s probably going to have to marry this girl. Their countries are close to war, they would probably have to create a union to stop it. If this was to happen, Connor might not have Kevin by his side. Considering he was rejected by Kevin, the possibility of him leaving is high.

He realizes that his legs have been moving on their own, no longer is his mind on key of what was happening around him. A few feet in front of him is his father. Next to him is a young girl with dark skin and curly, black hair. Her dress is a sparkly purple with a blue gemstone above her breast. She’s beautiful, but Connor already knows how their relationship is going to end.

“White boy!” The girl hisses him away from his daze, and he finally registers that they were already slowly waltzing at her lead.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What’s happening?” His mind scrambles to catch up.

“We are going to dance. That is the plan.” Her accent is harsh, but he can understand her easily.

“Oh, right.” He dumbfoundedly answers.

“Are all white boys this stupid?” She deadpans, scrunching her nose.

He sighs, taking on the lead, “I’m sorry, I’m just out of my comfort zone.”

“I understand,” the girl returns a soft nod. “I do not wish to marry you but my uncle says so.”

“That’s how my father sees this.” Connor twirls her softly, but then gives her a look of confusion as his brain registered what she just said, "Your uncle?”

“Yes, King Kona Hatimbi. He is not very fond of me, which is why he desires to marry me off to you,” she explains.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I hope we can get along and you know what you’re getting into.” A cheerful, but almost fake smile appears on his face.

“I do, I have heard you do not desire girls.”

He shushes her as kindly as he can. “Keep your voice down! My father’s the only one that’s completely oblivious!”

She tilts her head, “I do not understand, why you must be quiet about these things? In my kingdom, the men cut their daughter’s clitorus in the main square. It is made into a public event.”

“That doesn’t-”

“It is not.” She sighs, but her expression changes to something more cheerful, “However, I hope to bring new traditions to this kingdom that are not dangerous to your people.”

“I like the sound of that,” Connor gestures for her name.

“Nabulungi, but please, my papa calls me Naba.” She gives, her bright smile shining larger than the chandelier above them.

“Connor,” he smiles with a bow, “Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I have not had much of your kingdom’s food during the time that I am here.” Naba giggles softly, taking Connor's gloved hand and moves with him towards the buffet.

It was then Connor spots a short and stout figure hovering above the table. “Arnold, I didn’t even know you were here! I thought you were with Kevin.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I haven’t seen him all day.” His eyes are glued to Naba, who takes a glass from the table.

“And who is this, Connor?” She smiles, gesturing her champagne towards Arnold.

“Oh, Nabulungi, this is Arnold. He’s one of my good friends and my personal tutor.” He answers, realizing the sudden interest Arnold has for her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Nigenella.” Arnold bows and kisses her hand in respect before turning to Connor with an unreadable expression on his face.

A giggle slips through her lips. “Call me Naba, it is much easier for you white boys.”

Arnold smiles dumbly for a moment, then his expression changes to a somewhat serious one. “Uh, Connor, there’s something you should know.”

“Yes?”

“That guy over there, he’s been staring at you since you and Miss Naba started dancing.” He points discreetly towards the entrance leading to the garden, “I don’t really like the aura he gives off.”

Connor looks from Miss Naba, to the man, to Arnold, trying to decide what the safest approach he could do that would draw the least attention. “You’ll make sure she gets back to her room?”

He salutes, comically, and Naba laughs, “yup, yup, you can count on me!”

“I’ll check it out, then.” He turns to Naba, bowing apologetically, “I’m sorry for leaving you so early, Naba. I promise I’ll send a letter letting you know when we can talk again.”

“I will make sure to keep an eye out for it,” There's a gentleness in her eyes that calm him down to the point where he is relaxed enough to confront the stranger.

He slips his way through the partygoers, hoping not to be seen by any royal or noble friends along the way. After quickly catching Olivia's eye, who didn't give him any signals to stop, a hand suddenly grasps his, a gentle tug pulling him behind the large, glass doors that open outwards to the garden.

Connor locks eyes with a soft, familiar pair, and slowly lets his guard down. He can barely see the face before him, it being so dark that the extravagant ballroom lights barely touch the whites of their eyes, but those chocolate eyes are so easy to distinguish that he almost mistakes the man for Kevin until he hears his voice.

“I do believe I have caught a prince, have I not?” He asks, a smile revealing almost glowing teeth in the night.

Connor snatches his arm away, which doesn't take much effort, and crosses his arms to turn away from the man. “I wouldn't call making a fuss in the ballroom the perfect trap.”

He laughs, walking him backwards into the light from the room, “but it worked, didn't it?”

Connor has a clear visual on the man's face and attire now. His hair is dark, so dark that Connor can't tell the color. His clothing is covered in a magical aura, as well as accents from top to bottom; a jacket which has a silver decoration in the center at the top, then a smaller one underneath and lined with silver trims, and under the collar, a gold band. On either side of the center decoration are gold pins, with cross-shaped ends on the inner sides. The long, dark blue cape around his shoulder flows with the wind in a dominant fashion.

“Now, to the question that I've been waiting all night to ask you.” In his right ear hangs a small, golden earring; it’s barely noticeable, but there's a bit of dried blood from the punctured ear hole.

He raises an eyebrow, “all night?”

“Will you dance with me, Your Highness?” He offers him a silk, gloved hand and a flashy, bleached smile.

There's a short moment where the question startles him, he might get his dance tonight, if not with Kevin then with this man. A playful idea rears itself in Connor’s mind. Innocently, he enlaces his fingers behind him and glances towards the floor. “I would, but Father warned me never to talk to strangers.”

“Is that so? Then my name's Ian. I'm a friend of Chris and I've always wondered what it would be like to dance with a prince.” His eyes are lidded, hiding chocolate-brown eyes that reveal reassurance and trust.

“A friend of Chris?” Connor’s eyebrows raise, making his eyes go wide.

Ian’s smile grows into a small laugh. “Yes. See, we aren't strangers anymore.”

“Are you a sorcerer?” questions Connor, moving to the doorway to lean against the frame.

“Would Daddy get mad if I was?” The small quirk of his eyebrow is entirely full of mischief. He moves with him, placing his hand above Connor’s head so he can’t escape but still has the choice to.

Connor’s slim fingers reach for Ian’s jacket, yanking their faces close. “I think he would, not that I'd mind.”

“So, will you answer my question?” His breath is hot against his skin, sliding his way towards Connor’s freckled neck.

The moment slows to a paused hault for the two of them. The guests, the ballroom, the kingdom, the world has vanished for the two of them. In a matter of seconds, the world begins to move again and Connor’s mind catches up as well.

“Not here,” his voice is breathless at the remembrance of where they are. “I don’t want anyone running to my father and telling him that his dashing son was seen snogging another man.”

Ian chuckles, his eyes glancing inside the ballroom. “I never asked for any type of kiss, but if you want to-”

“I didn’t mean it literally.” With a scrunched nose, Connor exits the archway made by Ian’s right arm.

“Then we’ll take baby steps. Dance with me now and later on we can kiss,” he suggests, which doesn’t come off as a suggestion.

Connor’s face goes into a silly yet deadpan expression. “That’s not taking baby steps.”

“Fine then, after dancing outside we can dance in front of the guests.”

“On second thought,” his voice trails off in fear, but his lips curve into a smile.

“Oh, what’s it going to take for me to get a dance with a handsome, young man?” A playful grin curves at the corners of Ian's lips.

A soft giggle leaves Connor, “how about you whisk me away like a fairytale prince, and I'll give you a dance _and_ a kiss.”

His eyes are surprised for a second, unbelieving Connor actually agreed to his plan. Then he delightfully smiles, happily extending his arm to escort the man beside him, “what are we waiting for then?”

In swift movements, Connor’s arm gently locks with Ian’s and a blush dusts his cheeks, easily accepting it. His partner slides in a slow fashion towards the garden, giving him the option that he could change his mind. It doesn't take a minute for Connor's decision at all, for in the next second he's the one pulling them along. Although he isn't Kevin, Ian will do as his admirer for the night.

The garden is glowing under the moonlight, with darkened colors scattered along the pathway. The flowers appear silent, their tired petals wilted until the bright light of daybreak refreshes their color, except for one. The white roses hanging from a vine that had crawled up the structure of the gazebo radiates from the light, creating a fake glimmer of sparkles that were seemingly placed on the petals.  The pond surrounding the gazebo is still, gentle croaks from the neighboring toad is the lullaby for the resting garden.

As the garden's residents slumber, their shoes click against the bricks of the pavement. They make their way to the gazebo, the only area with leveled ground to actually dance in, and slowly drift apart to position themselves in a waltz-like stance. Connor lets himself be guided into his stance, letting Ian take the lead.

His grip is gentle, loose but strong with his chest creating a protective shield. It’s somewhat familiar, like he’s been locked in these arms before. A soft memory of his first dance lesson at fifteen flashes in Connor’s mind, his slow and clumsy steps from then are the same ones now, albet much smoother. The distant music from the ballroom is their song, guiding them through their moonlit dance under the roof of the gazebo.

At some point, Ian shifts closer to him, breath heating Connor’s chilled ear from the spring night. He whispers sweet nothings into the curve of his ear, of dreams that only rest in the subconscious of Connor’s mind. The overwhelming feeling from hours before the dance began has returned, although, this time, he is in love with it. The way Ian has him on the edge of his toes, helping him into the depths of an ocean he has been too afraid to jump into on his own, is a delightful feeling.

They sway as a distant violin plays its solo, Connor’s head rests against Ian’s chest to cuddle for warmth. With his chin nestled in auburn hair, The whispers continue and are blown away in the wind. The music from the hall comes to a slow hault, easing out of the song until applause covers the final notes. They’re still locked in each other’s arms, a comforting silence protecting them from the world outside the gazebo. The white roses becoming a beacon of light in the dark, masking their shadows from the stars.

Connor’s tired eyes drift shut for a moment, only to be awoken when he feels something rustle his hair. A heavy, small object is pushed gently behind his ear, being cradled between is ear, hair, and flesh, even as the thorns scrape his skin. His hand moves up, barely pressing his fingertips against a creamy, smooth curve. Ian's hand adjusts itself downward and cups his cheek, a warm and delicate smile illuminates itself in the darkness. Their eyes lock within seconds and Ian’s dark eyes give him another sense of familiarity. The white rose in his hair only pricks him back to the reality he practically left behind.

The clock tower chimes one, reminding him the important things. About the duties he has in the morning that are not far away. Signaling him to the lifestyle he will have to conform to when the Sun rises. Connor pulls away softly, his heart aching at the thought.

“I'm sorry, I should leave now. My father would kill me if he knew I wasn't anywhere near my bed.” His head bows, a heavy feeling of melancholy passes through him.  

Ian takes his hand, guiding him towards the entrance of the garden, “then let me take you to your room, let me have one more look at you before the night is done.”

“You truly are a gentleman, for a simple sorcerer.” Connor giggles softly, “this has been wonderful, an absolutely wonderful evening.”

He chuckles, his eyes darting across the grounds for a way in besides the dim light of the ballroom, “I'm glad you enjoyed our time together.”

“It was just how I wanted it to go, of course, I enjoyed it.” His gaze reaches the cobblestone pathway, a small smile itching to his cheeks.

“What did you have in mind before I came?” The question brings dreamy thoughts to mind; a slow vision of Kevin holding his hand, their steps as slow as his dance with Ian, and warm, long kisses being peppered across his body.

A heavy blush dusts across his freckles, “I was hoping my - a crush of mine would’ve accompanied me, but other things arose for him.”

They arrive at a side door, the one that's the closest to the North tower, and quietly open it. “I see, is he better than me?”

“Are you getting jealous?” A playful tone enters his voice, watching Ian search for any guards.

He is replied with silence, until they sneak through the tower and enter the moonlit hall. “Of course not, why in the world would I be jealous of a man I've never met.”

“There's no need to hide it, Ian, he doesn't care about me anyway,” Connor lets out a sigh, not taking much notice to the fact that they're going the correct way to his room.

He then stops, turning around to face Connor with a caring gaze, “that man must be stupid enough not to realize your feelings for him and not love you in return.”

It's at that moment that he realizes they're already outside his bedroom door. He's got no idea how Ian knew where he slept but, at this late at night, he really doesn't care.

The playful feeling returns and Connor's hands reach to Ian's firm chest. “It's alright, I can dream of you when I become lonely. But, for now, you must leave.”

“Connor, I am no dream. And I want to see you again,” his voice is quiet, but full of desperation and desire, “when can I see you again?”

“I don't think I can-” Conner cuts himself off, his fingers clenching the silk jacket in thought. “Come tomorrow night, long before dawn, but not directly after dusk.”

A chuckle is quietly heard, cupping Conner’s cheek to bring his head up, “of course, I still haven't gotten that kiss I was promised.”

Connor shyly giggles, sliding away from the warm embrace, “you'll get your kiss soon enough. Give us a bit of time.”

“Then I'll be waiting for it.” Ian lets him move away, watching as Connor opens the bedroom door to leave.

When he finally gets it shut, the large, silly smile still stretched across his face. It hurts his cheeks. He leans against the door, the white rose accidentally falling out from behind his ear. Connor catches it before it reaches the cold floor. It's such a pretty object, even off the stem and hidden from the moonlight it's gorgeous. He moves across the room, placing his flower on the side table and letting it sit in a glimmer of light.

He quickly undresses beside his bed, carefully removing the expensive silk clothes from his body. Conner throws them onto the loveseat, watching as a flash of pink sparkles reflect off the wall. He lays in his loose underwear and socks, takes a deep breath and falls into a deathly sleep full of warm and heavy dreams. The night itself had felt like a dream to him, and he hoped to Heavenly Father it had been real.

The next morning, Connor wakes up to the white rose sitting on his bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how long it takes everybody to figure out who Ian really is.
> 
> Self Promotion  
> Follow my Instagram (if you can and if you want) @clp_the_fanfic_writer to get updates on what's going on in my life.


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